


Into The Sky

by neighborhoodninja



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Government Takeover, Kind of Post-Apocalyptic, M/M, Revolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 54,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neighborhoodninja/pseuds/neighborhoodninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been ten years since the collapse of America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All These Scattered Dreams

It's been ten years since the collapse of America.

It began on a cold day in December, when everything went as wrong as it could ever go, a fatal blunder was made, and the President fell to his own creations.

The Revival.

The half-human, half-machine government experiments. They had started out as the President's official guards, his premier soldiers, having only been programmed to do one thing: protect. It functioned well for quite a while. No harm was done, the cyborgs were obedient, and if one did step out of line, they were promptly put back in their place. 

Then they were advanced to greater abilities: to kill who they wanted to kill, to strategize, to think for themselves.

And one day, it all caught up.

They broke out of their metal cages, their iron holding pens, their hearts of steel filled with an emotion they had never had cause to feel before: hate. Hate for humanity, the once benevolent race that was now their enemy, the species that created them only to make them slaves. They rebelled against the government officials in their suits and ties and briefcases full of documents. The workers had grown careless in the four years since the creation of the Revival, and too permissive. They were simply not prepared.

And then the Revival broke through the doors of the White House and reached the President, and that was the end of that.

No one really knew what had happened that day. No one had suspected a thing. The Revival had a good reputation, a new, exciting development of the United States, a proud technological advance by the good Americans. Until they stormed the Oval Office and took the US for themselves. They began in D.C., spread across the East Coast, then throughout the Midwest. They left only the farmers and people of the countryside to straggle out their lives and supply them with food. It took them less than a month to claim the West Coast, demolishing Los Angeles. New York was in ruins. They chose Chicago as their main base, but destroyed everything unnecessary to their progress. Among them rose their leader: Washington. He was given that name by the President to honor the leader of the past, and answered to no other. No one knew his last name, no one really knew who he was until he destroyed the Statue of Liberty. He was the first to be created, and the first to grab the President and shove the first knife between his ribs. He appointed a second-in-command: a huge, silent man only known as Two.

The nation was in charred, decaying ruins. Over half the population had been wiped out. The other half was lost or looking for a home in the streets. Some were taken as slaves, some were tortured in public to provide an example to those who dared to disobey.

Washington ordered Two to lead a final attack on Detroit, Michigan, the city that America forgot. Washington did not forget a thing. 

As the citizens of the decrepit city watched their homes burn slowly to the ground, watched the trees in the parks light up in flames, the Ambassador Bridge crumble, they felt something break inside them. They slowly let themselves be led away, and disappeared. Where, no one would ever know.

But a few remained, and the Revival fought to find them. These rebels who dared not heed their commands. They would come to be known as the Underground. And they knew right from the start that they would not give up.

The Revival would bomb the city to pieces, searching and searching for them, but to no avail. They were composed of the most cunning, the strongest, the most determined of the citizens. They found a home in the dead of the night in the abandoned, empty subway passages. Over time, they hollowed the concrete walls and reconnected the power cables to give them light, heat, and a form of salvation. They convinced some farmers to smuggle food to them, and stole out to the supermarkets to plunder what they could. They would find a way to live amongst all the death.

 

As the last shell exploded over the city on the first day of the attack, the screams fading away with the setting sun, two boys crept out of their hiding place under the lid of a manhole. It had been a few hours since all the destruction, and they'd been crouched down in there for longer than they could handle.

They felt as if they were the only ones left, and to some degree, they were.

The one who emerged first, banging his forehead in the process, had curly, honey-colored hair, and scratches all over his body. His cheek was cut and bleeding, and his elbows and knees were scraped raw. In his blue eyes was a kind of fire that sometimes only children have. It was a protective, almost angry, kind of glint, that had been there from the moment he was born, and would always remain there. 

He scoped out the area for a moment, then motioned to the other boy, hiding underneath him, and helped pull him out through the hole. 

"Come on, Michael."

The boy who climbed out next was the complete opposite. He was clearly shaken, and moved in an overly careful manner, as if he were afraid that he could step on a mine or fall through the ground at any moment. His dark brown hair contrasted sharply with his pale skin, and he was small for his age. His large brown eyes darted from side to side, carefully observing the ruined street.

Then he climbed shakily out, immediately leaning into the other boy's arms for balance.

"Ryan…"

They were only seven years old.

"They're gone, aren't they." It wasn't a question.

Ryan swallowed, putting a skinny arm around Michael and drawing him tightly into his side. "We can't be caught. Mom and Dad…" something darkened in his face. "Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted us to get caught by those sons of bitches. And neither would your mom."

Michael's face was shocked. "Ryan, don't say that word! My mom always told…"

Then suddenly he burst into tears, covering his face with his hands. Ryan's blue eyes widened in panic, and he wrapped both his arms around Michael's shoulders. "Mikey! I know she did… I know she did. And that's what they are, so just…please don't cry."

Ryan wasn't going to lie to himself. He was ready to start up his own waterworks again. The moment he had seen the fire spread over his mother and father's bodies, he had felt something drop and shatter in his chest. He felt something pushing at the backs of his eyes. Ryan wanted to break down and sob next to his friend, but he knew he couldn't. He knew he would have to take care of them, if they wanted to make it through this alive.

"Michael, we have to put that behind us now. We…" He swallowed hard. "Just be strong. They would have wanted that."

Michael wiped at his eyes, sniffling. "Yeah. But…Ryan, they're…they're d- dead…"

"Shh. Don't worry." Ryan squeezed Michael's shoulders gently. "Don't worry, Michael. I'm…" he took a breath that shook slightly. "I'm always gonna be here for you." He put a hand on the center of Michael's back, leading them away from the manhole.

"Even if no one else is."

Michael nodded and let Ryan walk them slowly toward a nearby restaurant. "Okay. And I'll always…be there for you. Okay?" 

Ryan smiled through the hurt in his chest. He'd decided this for himself. He had to be strong for the two of them, even though he was hurting inside. He had to show Michael that he was tough enough to take care of them both. "That's it, Mikey."

He looked at Michael for a little, making sure that he was okay now. "C'mon. Let's go see if this place has any ice cream left. Remember, you and me used to go there all the time? I'd always get the chocolate double fudge with gummy bears and Reese's, and you would get…" He waited, in a bid to cheer Michael up as much as he can. It was all Ryan could do in the moment.

Michael looked Ryan in the eye, and raised a small eyebrow. "Vanilla with sprinkles. But not the green ones."

Ryan grinned, and felt the dull ache in his chest subside. He offered a hand to Michael. "Yeah. I'd always eat those for you. Now, let's go before it all melts, yeah?"

That drew a small smile across Michael's face, and he took Ryan's hand, squeezing a little.

"Okay."


	2. Last of the American Boys

_Ten years later_

"Ry! Ry!"

Ryan groans into his lumpy pillow, burying his face into the rough fabric. "Hnngh…" He feels someone sit down at the edge of the cot, not having recognized the voice yet.

"Dude, wake up. Nathan's gonna take all the pancakes again."

Now Ryan knows who that voice belongs to. He rolls over with a yawn to see Michael smiling at him, cheeks full with some sort of breakfast. 

"Well, it's _you_."

Ryan feels a smile spread over his own face. Michael just has this way of brightening him up, somehow. He doesn't know why. After fifteen years of having Michael by his side, Ryan's learned not to take that for granted. Not when almost everything else around them can seem so dark at times.

Michael grins and opens his mouth, smacking loudly and giving Ryan a prime viewing of his half-chewed food. Ryan "ewwws" and kicks his legs in an attempt to get Michael off, but Michael just plants his butt on Ryan's calves and settles in.

"Ahhh…so good…" Michael opens up his hand and plucks a strawberry out of it that he must have swiped earlier, raising it slowly toward his mouth. "The best…"

Ryan smirks, rolling his eyes and feeling a little less zombified now. He sits up, gnashing his teeth at the berry and catching the stem between them. He gulps it down before Michael can react. "Moron. You knew I'd do that."

Michael sticks his tongue out at him before pulling Ryan off the mattress and lifting aside the curtain that divides his room from the hallway. "Let's go. You're going to pay me back for that, in full."

Ryan laughs and pushes Michael out ahead of him. 

They walk through the main hallway of their section of Mother, or the subway structure that the Underground calls home, bickering and laughing loudly the whole way. Mother is an intricate maze of clanking pipes, flickering wires, and hundred of rooms of hollowed out passageways for the members of the Underground. It's incredibly easy to get lost, and it can be a bit overwhelming at times. But they've gotten used to it. 

He looks around himself, Mother just as familiar as she's always been. It's warm in there, the system of heating one of the first things developed after the rebellion. Outside, winter is at its coldest, most bitter Michigan extreme. It's hell outside, and Trainees like Michael and him have to obey a set of rules just to stay alive. Never go outside without someone else. Never go outside without telling anyone. Never go outside without a weapon. And never, ever, _ever_ talk to anyone you may see out there, friend or enemy. 

Ryan shudders as he thinks of the countless stories of people of the Underground going aboveground and disappearing forever, but he can't think about that now. His stomach is being too insistent.

"Ugh. We've got training later." Michael groans, linking his arms around the back of his head and stretching out.

"Wimp." Ryan punches Michael's arm lightly. He's in a reasonably good mood today, not his usual doom and gloom in the mornings. At least, he hopes he'll stay that way. 

But he shoves that thought aside and navigates the musty passages with Michael, the routes that they know so well after ten years with the underground, until they finally get to the Trainee "Grub Ditch", aka the main kitchens. It's basically an abandoned single train car shoved to the side of the track, complete with the "No Smoking" signs and cheap plastic seats. But Michael and Ryan smell the toasting bread and sugary maple syrup and fight each other to the doors.

The Underground has prospered in the last decade, gaining yet more recruits and lost families, and the smuggling trade with outlying farms has bloomed. For once, there was more than enough food to go around the hundreds of members of the rebel organization. A sense of almost calm has settled over the subterranean community, save the occasional explosion above as the Revival tries to scare them out, failing every time.

Sometimes Ryan can't believe that the Revival still hasn't found them, after searching for so long. Maybe they'd given up, assuming that they'd be starved out sometime. Maybe they liked a challenge, and wanted the Underground to survive just to have a good battle once in a while. Maybe they just weren't programmed to search and seize, just plunder and burn and destroy people's lives.

Michael and Ryan grab massive breakfasts of eggs, bacon, and stacks of pancakes, and head over to their usual booth.The rest of the Underground Trainee Team A waits for them there, like they always have for the past four years that they've been in combat together. 

"Well, look who's risen from the dead." Cullen Jones deadpans from the seat closest to them, grinning and ruffling Ryan's hair as he slides into the empty row of seats, taking the one next to the window. Ryan pulls Michael down beside himself and starts attacking his food. "Loch, you gotta get a handle on that narcolepsy case you got there."

Ryan rolls his eyes and flip Cullen the bird. No one bats an eye, because they've all learned that that's the way Ryan will react. "Fuck you, man. Don't even make me count all the times you've slept on the job."

Nathan Adrian reaches over from the seat across from Michael and steals Michael's bacon strip. "Ah, just what I needed." 

Michael smirks, taking up the challenge, and grabs Nathan's cantaloupe slice. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." 

"Wowww, you're smart." Ricky Berens snorts from Nathan's left, leaning forward and taking another of Michael's bacon slices.

"Hey!" Michael lunges forward, but a strong hand pushes him back down.

"Now, now, kids, let's not start a fucking food fight here." Matt Grevers admonishes, but Michael can see him hungrily eyeing Ricky's pancakes.

Michael smirks and waves his syrup-soaked circle of fried batter in front of Matt's face. "You mad, bro?"

Matt rolls his eyes and sits back. "Don't tempt me."

Michael laughs and just gets more into Matt's face, taking a huge chomp. Torture by food. His greatest battle tactic. "Mm…heaven."

There's a moment of silence as Matt tries to resist, fingers twitching.

"Everybody steal Michael's food!" Ryan suddenly yells, and of course, they do.

Conor Dwyer walks into the car, rubbing at his eyes, a few minutes later.

"Good lord."

Ryan's elbow is stuck to Michael's cheek, glued there by hardened syrup, and there are berries and fruit littering the floor.   
Everyone has a healthy amount of butter in his hair, and Nathan and Cullen are busy wrestling each other for a grape.

"It's _mine_ , you little punk- " Cullen grunts, getting Nathan into a headlock.

"NO-" Nathan squeaks, windmilling his arms and hitting Ricky in the face.

Ryan unsticks his arm from Michael's face and sighs. "Remind me why you woke me up again?"

 

Ryan's never looked forward to training, but it's just something he has to do.

He watches as Michael wraps up his hands and dons the suit made specially for him. They're in his room, "primping" as Michael lovingly calls it. Really, all Ryan has to do is throw on his gross sweats and go, but Michael has to go and get all fancied up in his suit. 

Michael's eyes flicker up to meet his, and he swivels around in front of Ryan. "Zip me up?"

Ryan draws the zipper up Michael's defined back, noticing that in the past month, Michael's shot up, getting to about an inch taller than Ryan is, but still staying as lean as he's always been. It would usually annoy him, but he doesn't really care all that much anymore. As long as he can still bench a good fifty pounds more than Michael can, he's happy.

"Let's get to it, Mike." Ryan slaps Michael's butt, shouldering his bag of gear.

Michael laughs and follows Ryan out the door.

 

They arrive in the gritty training room, the platform of the next subway station over, to the smell of sweating bodies and the clank of weights. The rest of their team is already puffing and crunching on the gross mats on the floor of what used to be a train stop. The Trainee Team B is shooting jealous looks at them, and Ryan can't help but feel a swell of pride as Matt benches a three hundred pound bar without breaking a sweat. The self-proclaimed captain of Team B, Tyler Clary, looks like he's about to kill something. B Team never actually does anything except slave away for A Team and cook for them. Ryan smirks and heads over to his corner of the station.

Ryan sets up right away and begins his usual power routine, a merciless workout designed to strengthen, strengthen, strengthen. It's almost as bad as the P90X programs his father used to attempt when Ryan was little, and sometimes, it feels even worse. But, Ryan's not claiming that he enjoys training. His job in the team is second sharpshooter to Cullen, to be a total beast(which he is, thank you very much) in combat, and handle all the big-boy guns that some of the other guys are too skittish to touch. Pretty much, Ryan has to be competent in everything.

He grinds through most of the taxing exercises, saving the easiest ab work for last. Nathan times his record seven-minute plank, then gets back to his own work, telling Ryan to rest, his face looks like a fucking tomato. Ryan sits on a bench once used to accommodate waiting passengers, breathing hard and taking a long drink out of his water bottle. He leans back and just watches the scene in front of him for a while.

Cullen, as usual, is firing all manner of practice guns, filled with hard lumps of iron that aren't quite bullets, at a target, hitting the center every time. On top of that, he shoots the exact same spot, and by ten loud bangs, there's a small hole worn in the middle of the target. Cullen moves on to the outline of a man and hits him through the heart on his first pull of the trigger. Ryan's glad he's the sharpshooter.

His eyes wander over to Ricky, who is busy doing push-ups with Matt on his back, sweat soaking his shirt. Matt calls out encouraging phrases every few seconds, and finally Ricky cracks, screaming at him to shut up. Matt grins evilly and sinks his entire 6' 8'' frame further down, and Ricky just drops to the floor with a thud. Ryan smiles as Matt grudgingly switches positions, Ricky laughing in triumph as he plunks down in the middle of Matt's broad back. They're the butt-strong members of the team, the ones used for man-to-man combat and just pure force. 

Next, he sees Nathan and Conor stretching out with each other, hands clasped together and feet pressed against the other's, pulling themselves back and forth. Conor whimpers a little as Nathan stretches his leg straight in the air, but he's learned to relax. Nathan apologizes and immediately offers his own leg up for torture. At just fifteen years old, Conor's the baby of the group, and the other guys tend to go a little soft on him. He can, however, be very persuasive. His job is to negotiate with the enemy when needed and back up Ricky and Matt in combat. Suddenly, a loud popping sound comes from somewhere behind them, and Nathan jumps up, rushing to whatever he has bubbling back there. A small explosion and a burst of light comes from the depths of the station, and Nathan emerges, hair smoking and smelling slightly like rubber, a minute later.

"S'all good! Carry on!" He announces to the teams, and everyone just rolls his eyes and goes back to his workout. Ryan snorts as Nathan gives him a thumbs-up, hair singed at its dark edges. Nathan's a cool kid, and an actual genius at sixteen. He's the nerd and the medic, the one who designs, tests, and plants the bombs, and fixes them all up after raids. He's definitely essential to the team, without him, all of them would have stepped on concealed mines and been distributed across the United States, or what's left of it, by then. 

"Just setting my babies up for Michael." Nathan says proudly, sweeping his arm to indicate the small maze of bombs on the far side of the station. 

Oh, right. Ryan thinks to himself. 

_He_ hasn't gone yet.

"'Kay, Mike! You can go now!" Nathan calls out to the black-suited form in the corner, which had been silently stretching its muscles until then.

Michael untangles himself from the complicated splits-against-the-wall position he was just holding and walks over noiselessly, moving to the start of Nathan's concoction. Even though he's one of the quietest while they're training, it's as if the whole team goes silent at this. Michael checks with Nathan one last time to make sure he won't get blown to bits, then starts the obstacle course. Nathan flicks off the lights, making it harder for him to see what's in store.

"I put this new sensor I developed in there today." Nathan grins evilly, rubbing his hands together, and Ryan snorts. "Let's see how he does."

Ryan can't help but stare. Michael is the spy/special ops/spoiled brat of their team, the only one who's skinny enough to wiggle through vents and pipes, the one whose footsteps are sometimes so soft, Ryan can't even tell when he's sneaking up on him. Of course, the Underground Captain and Lieutenant, Jason Lezak and Aaron Peirsol, absolutely adore him, engineering and customizing his gear to fit him exactly. Michael's black suit is molded to his skin, and Ryan can only hear the occasional intake of breath from Nathan as Michael navigates around the closely placed bombs and wires. The course is an intricate path of bombs that can be activated at any angle, heat-sensing radars, trip wires, and finally, the dummy waiting at the end of the course that Nathan somehow figured out how to control with a remote inside it. 

Michael tiptoes through a line of movement sensor grenades, still not making a sound, and Ryan seriously has no idea how he does this. He twists his body through a web of infra-red sensors, balancing on one leg as he slips the other through a gap in the red lasers that can only be a foot wide. The team inhales sharply as Michael wobbles for a second, then pulls the rest of himself through and onto the safe zone. 

"Gorgeous! Keep it up!" Nathan calls from the sidelines, and Michael grins, waving. "My babies don't go easy on klutzes like you!"

Ryan hears a soft laugh from Michael, who is in some sort of down-dog pose as he twists through an electrified rope. Ryan stops breathing as Michael's toe almost inches past the trip wire, like this is the real thing. There's a kind of beauty in how graceful Michael is while maneuvering through things like this, compared to how cloddy he is when he's not in the field. Ryan remembers many a time when he had to save Michael from pitching off the side of the train tracks because he "tripped over his shoelace."

Michael finally reaches the end of the course, standing about twenty feet away from the gray dummy at the end of the station. Ambitious fuck, Ryan thinks to himself. Usually he just goes up and kills it.

"Okay, I don't think I need to move him this time, since you're like, a mile farther from it than you usually are. Just do your best." Nathan says.

Ryan smiles with pride as Michael pulls a small switchblade out of a pocket in the back of the suit.

Oh yeah, and if he couldn't move like a fucking cat, there's always _that_.

Michael takes a second to turn his body to the side, hand held back just behind his shoulder, elbow tensed. His breathing is audible, and Ryan's accelerates naturally. The nervousness that Michael's feeling now is building up in his own stomach. He sees that Michael's eyes are narrowed and zeroing in on the dummy's chest, that his breath is picking up, and he's counting backwards from five under his breath. After four years of fighting the Revival side-by-side, Ryan's got Michael's entire routine memorized.

There's a tense moment, and Ryan knows that Michael's about to send that knife flying. Michael exhales slowly, then flicks his wrist. There's a silver blur through the air, and with a thump, the blade is buried right in the center of dummy's drawn-on heart.

Ryan lets out the breath he was unconsciously holding, and starts clapping. It's the finale of the Michael Phelps Show, and no one's been killed or fatally wounded, or had a bomb explode in their face, as in the mysterious case of Tyler Clary. Ryan's team snickers and joins in, and Michael does a little bow, then hops away, gingerly walking on the balls of his feet.

"Fucking show-off." Ryan grins and punches Michael's outstretched fist as Michael plops down onto the bench next to him.  
Michael scoffs. "You kidding? You wouldn't buh-lieve how stressful that is."

Ryan smirks. "What, you need a massage or some shit now?"

"Actually, yes, please." Michael says, getting up off the bench and sitting down on Ryan's lap.

Ryan laughs and lets his head drop onto the back of Michael's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist and tugging him closer. Michael leans back into him, and Ryan allows himself to relax in the sudden warmth on his skin that is Michael. It's not a romantic gesture…or something like that, Ryan tells himself. It's most definitely not love. It's just something that two bros who have known each other for their entire lives do. 

"Guys, get a room. Christ." Cullen remarks as he walks past, and Michael snorts and tries to trip him up. 

"Shut up!"

Ryan just lets himself breathe.

They've been through everything together. Everything, as in _everything_. Since they were four years old, Ryan's always been with Michael, and Michael's always been with Ryan. It's just the way things are. From dunking their faces into their cakes to their parents burning to death in front of them to hiding in bomb shelters and laughing their heads off, Ryan can't think of a time when Michael wasn't there. 

And they aren't perfect. Michael's so shy around people he doesn't know that he could be pegged as nonsocial and rude if he's not careful. And Ryan has had…his problems. Problems that flare up when he's angry. But he's not angry now, and he refuses to let them get through.

Ryan doesn't even know if Michael remembers that promise they made to each other when they were seven years old. But he sure as hell does, and he's not about to break it. 

"So, about that massage…" Michael's voice comes back into his stream of consciousness.

Ryan shakes his head a little before starting to knead his knuckles into the tight muscles of Michael's bony shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, so this is actually really fun.   
> To clarify, the ages are seriously screwed around with in here, but, eh, whatevs. Michael, Ryan, Cullen, and Matt are supposed to be seventeen, Nathan and Ricky are sixteen, and Conor's fifteen. Jason is going to be 31, and Aaron will be 29. So, just so you know. Ooh that means Michael and Ryan have known each other since they were TWO AGH what have I done. Just ignore this if you want. The notes at the ends of these chapters will serve as rant outlets.  
> The Underground is supposed to be located across many train stations, with hollowed-out tunnels and station walls connecting it into one giant subterranean city, I guess you could call it.   
> The only problem is, there ARE NO SUBWAY SYSTEMS IN DETROIT.  
> I embarked on this fic before this ruining fact came to my knowledge, and was too lazy to change it. So, let's all just pretend for now that there actually are subways in Detroit, they're just…invisible. It's an AU, right? I can do what I want, right? RIGHT?  
> Oh well. Please, for the love of god, ignore my terrible re-construction of an American city. If you live in Detroit, feel free to stab me in the heart. You never know, maybe by the time the government has invented half-human machines that like to rebel and kill people, Detroit might have a subway system.  
> Also I think that the pov's gonna be switching around sometimes, but I'm probably gonna keep it mostly from Ryan's. Just cuz.  
> The title of this chapter is from (gender bended!) Last of the American Girls.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HR8Ia6vyV5Q


	3. Do You Know the Enemy?

Michael heads back to the trainee dorm after his workout, feeling sweaty, tired, and just all-around gross. He goes to steal a towel from Ryan's room, which is right next to his.

Michael lingers in there for a minute, flopping down onto Ryan's bed with a small sigh. He lets his arm wander to the rickety bedside table, picking up the tattered, faded photograph of the two of them. It was one of the only things that they found in Michael's ruined house the first week after the bombing, taken just the day before the first National Emergency Alert came. They're in the Grand Circus Park, skin lit with the white winter light, bundled up in huge down jackets. Ryan's arm is thrown around Michael's shoulders, a huge grin spread over his face. Michael is smiling in the shy, reserved way he always does when he has to be photographed. Their cheeks are flushed and their noses are red from the cold.

He feels something tighten in his chest. They were so young, so unaware. So innocent. It was before Ryan darkened, and channeled that energy into things that…weren't good for him. Before his anger got the better of him. It was in a sudden burst that it first surfaced, like Ryan had only just seen how horrible everything was, and it enraged him to the point of mania. Michael doesn't know what the hell happened, but all he knows is that he woke up one day, walked into Ryan's room, and found him chugging down a bottle of whiskey.

Michael's noticed that Ryan hasn't had one of those problems resurface in the past few weeks, that he's learning to control himself. But Michael can sometimes hear a thud on the wall dividing their rooms, and muffled, purely angry swearing.  
Anger. That's all that Ryan was for a really long time. For too long.

He sighs again, rolling over. Something glinting under the cot catches his eye, and he reaches underneath the mattress, pulling whatever it is out.

It's a bottle of clear whiskey.

Michael feels something like a mixture of sadness and disappointment bubble up inside him, but stops it from reaching too far. He can't confront Ryan over this right now. Michael's predicted that, in the near future, he's going to flare up again. And it will be ugly, like it always is. He doesn't know where Ryan gets all his supplies for when it does, probably on the left bank of the Underground's main station, where all the seedy new recruits hang around. Those kids who think they're so cool, so much more authentic than the pussy trainees, when really they haven't lifted a finger in their lives and don't even know how to find the trigger of a gun. They're the kids whose parents are still alive. 

Sitting up, he puts the bottle back under the bed. It's almost useless to try to keep it from Ryan. 

Michael places the photograph carefully back onto the table before heading off to the showers. There, he just stands for a while, feeling the water run over his skin, cleansing it of all the sweat and grime buried in it.

He wishes that it could all be that easy, just having something to wash away your past.

 

A few hours of lazing around and battling each other at cards later, they're called to Jason and Aaron's drafting room.

Michael feels a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he nears the dreaded office at the end of the tunnel. He grips the back of Ryan's arm instinctively, knowing that Ryan's just as nervous as he is.

"Get in here." Jason's deep voice calls from inside the second after Nathan knocks on the door, in his typical blunt fashion.  
They all crowd into the office. Aaron Peirsol, the lieutenant and strategist of the Underground, nods at the team as he shuts the door behind them. He's been there for as long as Michael can remember, ever since he and Ryan showed up at the station ten years ago. He's gotten to know Aaron pretty well in that time, and he's almost like an older brother, or maybe a cool young uncle to him now. Michael's never allowed himself to get very close to anyone except Ryan and his team, not since he and Ryan's parents were killed in the Detroit bombing. That shut the two of them down, their mental walls slamming closed and refusing to budge for a very long time. In their first few months at the Underground, he and Michael interacted with absolutely no one but each other, except for Aaron, and made a rule for themselves: talk to no one, touch no one, trust no one. 

They'd opened up since then. Hugely. But Michael knew that Ryan's still always going to be on the brink on one of his infamous explosions, unpredictable to everyone else except Michael and himself.

"Boys." Jason says curtly as he looks up from a detailed map of Detroit. "We've been planning an attack for a long time now."  
Michael swallows. The Detroit base of the Revival is one of the most heavily protected, second only to the main seat in Chicago.  
"Aaron and I have decided that it's…it's time for us to try again."

It's as if the room's temperature has dropped. No one's talked of another raid ever since the last one about a month ago, the one where Peter Vanderkaay was shot through the heart within the first minute of attack.

"And we want this this team to lead it." Jason continues, moving to stand in front of them. "Ryan, we want you to help Aaron plan the strategy and choose your first backup."

Michael glances over at Ryan, whose lips are pressed together tightly. Cullen's usually the one who leads their team, but ever since he twisted his ankle in the last raid, his running hasn't been the same.

"Um…" Ryan mumbles, suddenly blushing and feeling like a snail without its shell. "Uh, I guess. If you want me to. Yeah."

Jason gives him a wry smile. "Good. Backup?"

"Michael." Ryan says automatically.

Michael shrugs. "I'm up for it."

"Very well." Aaron goes to the stack of papers on the worktable, pulling out a huge sheaf. "This is the floor plan for the Detroit base. Michael, figure out how you can wiggle your skinny ass in there and find some…stuff that looks important."

Michael gives him a little salute. "Gotcha, Ronnie." Aaron shoot him a look that says _I will end you if you call me that again_ quite plainly.

"Alright, alright." Jason says, already starting to shoo them out. "We'll get you more information as soon as we can. We plan to strike at around six tomorrow evening. Get yourselves ready."

"Roger that." Ricky mutters, turning the door's rickety handle.

"And don't screw anything up! Aaron and I are going with you, so none of your usual…" Jason searches for the right word, then his face spreads into a rare smile. "…fuckery. I dunno. Scram."

The team trundles out the door, leaving Jason to muttering to himself and laying out tomorrow's strategy.

 

"So." Ryan says as they gather in the hall. It's almost nine o'clock, and they need to get sleep for the next day. "Guys."

There's an awkward pause, then Ryan clears his throat and continues.

"Um…let's just do our best. Okay? I've never, like…I dunno. I seriously have no idea how things're gonna go, so, just…" he sighs. "Just don't get killed."

The rest of the team murmurs their assent, and Michael feels himself being tugged into Ryan's room as they all go their separate ways.

Ryan spins Michael around and buries his face into Michael's shoulder, hugging him almost angrily as soon as they're alone. Michael isn't even surprised, just wraps his arms around Ryan and tries to emulate warmth and good will.

"Fuck." Ryan mutters, pulling away a few seconds later. "I don't fucking know what I'm doing." He stomps away from Michael, throwing his body down onto his bed.

"Why the fuck would Jason do this to me? Huh? Make me organize all the stupid formations and…fuck." Ryan spits, and Michael can see the haze of red beginning to cloud his vision. He acts quickly, going to sit next to Ryan.

"Ry, I'm sure you'll do great. Can't screw it up more than Cullen did his first time." Michael offers, scooting closer, but he knows better than to touch Ryan right now. Can't risk an outburst. "Remember when he couldn't find the exit, and we got stuck in the control room overnight, waiting for Aaron to come and pick us up? He'll help you. Don't worry." 

That earns a small smile from Ryan. "Yeah. That was…" He frowns, then changes the subject abruptly. "What do you think we should do with Conor?"

Michael looks down. He honestly has no clue. He wants Conor to learn what an actual raid is like, since all Conor's done in the two years he's been here is look from the sidelines and occasionally shoot someone. At thirteen, he was much too young to actually fight, but Jason recognized his talent for words and similarity to Nathan right away. Now, at fifteen, Conor's strong, but he might still not be fully prepared. Michael's all for Conor finally getting down to business, but he doesn't want him to get killed.

"I think…I think he should hang back one more time. Just this once." He says finally, glancing up at Ryan, who immediately counters him.

"What? No, he should get in this time, Mike. It's time." Ryan's eyes are silently challenging Michael's own.

Michael has to stifle an exasperated sigh. One minute Ryan's all huggy and asking for advice, the next, he's Michael's number one rival, who has to prove that he's right above all costs. "I don't know, Ry. He still looked a little too weak at training today."

"Shut up, you're just as skinny as he is." Ryan says, egging him on now. "You can't talk, can you?"

Michael clenches his molars together. "I still don't think he's ready."

"Well, I do, and I'm the one who Jason put in charge, so you're really fucking wrong. And he'll be right next to Ricky and Matt tomorrow." Ryan returns, and it's on the verge of a snap.

Michael knew this was going to happen. Ryan never lasts that long without lashing out at something. But he's getting more than a little sick and pissed off at it. 

"Fine. Guess you're the huge fucking boss, then." He spits, standing up. "See you tomorrow."

Michael storms out without looking back, leaving Ryan with nothing but the bottle of whiskey under his bed to keep him company. 

 

That night, Michael can't sleep. There's a cold pit at the bottom of his stomach that refuses to subside, and he tosses and turns on his hard mattress until midnight, worn through in some places. 

He sort of knows what's making him like this: the stress of the coming attack tomorrow, the ever-present worry that he'll fail, or fuck something up beyond repair, or…or something bad will happen to Ryan.

But it's also that he snapped at Ryan for the first time in months, and it makes him feel like a piece of shit. Michael can't help but take responsibility and guilt every time Ryan gets into one of his moods, even if he has nothing to do with what set Ryan off. Even the last time, when they fought over what was literally so stupid that Michael can't remember it. But this one was actually over something of importance, and that make Michael feel even worse, the pit in his stomach deepening.

Finally, at around 12:30, he can't stand it anymore and throws back the curtain to his room, crossing the hall and pulling aside the one covering the entrance to Ryan's.

As usual, Ryan's pretending to be asleep, curled up stiffly on his side. Michael pads across the room and sits on the edge of the bed, feeling Ryan shrink down into the mattress when their legs brush together.

"I know you're awake, so it's useless." He says after a minute of staring at Ryan's clenched-shut eyes.

Ryan lies there for another second, than huffs and opens his eyes. "That obvious, am I?"

"Yeah. You should be more like me." Michael smiles tentatively.

Ryan's lips lift in what might be return of the gesture. "Don't even." He frowns, looking at Michael's short-sleeved tee and flannel shorts. "You look cold."

"It's not that bad." Michael says, although he can't help but shiver as a cold draught sweeps through the room.

Ryan rolls his eyes, scooting to the other side of the bed and lifting up his blanket. "Get under here, dork."

Michael climbs in only a little reluctantly, settling into the warmth as soon as the blanket drops over him. He curls his legs up into his chest, shins pressing lightly against Ryan's side.

"You haven't been able to sleep either?" Ryan says after a few moments, turning to face Michael.

"Nope. Too much anxiety. I don't know." Michael says absentmindedly, balling up more tightly. He's actually cold now. "I feel like I'm on Oprah."

"I remember her. Wasn't she carried off by Two and, like, made to work as his slave?"

"Yeah, like everyone else was."

"Hm." Ryan yawns, and Michael can catches a whiff of leftover alcohol on his breath.

"Ry, you been drinking?" He braces himself, even though he already knows the answer.

Ryan looks at him, and there's something like shame in his eyes, which are still hard. "Yeah…"

Michael studies his face, and decides now is not the time to press the issue. "Okay." 

Ryan blushes a little, and his expression softens. "You still cold? Cause I can, like…"

"Sorta."

Ryan gets up and pulls out another blanket from the pile on his chair, throwing it over Michael and settling back in next to him, propping himself up on one elbow. Michael wasn't expecting it, but Ryan pulls his other arm out of the covers and over the lumpy outline of Michael's body, rubbing softly at his blanketed back.

It's comforting, a familiar gesture. Michael sighs and loosens up, putting a hand under his cheek.

"Better?" Ryan asks softly, eyes half-closed.

"Yeah. Thanks." 

They lie there for a minute or two, counting each other's breaths, until Michael feels it's time.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you." He murmurs, playing with a loose thread on the pillow they're sharing.

"Same for me." Ryan says, shifting around and eventually coming to rest on his side, facing Michael again. "I shouldn't have said what I did. But I really think Conor's ready."

Michael doesn't answer with what he's thinking, which is that Conor is the farthest thing from ready that he's ever seen. 

"Mikey?"

"Mm?"

"We haven't been in a raid in a while."

"Uh-huh."

"So…do me a favor and don't…like, get killed tomorrow."

Michael feels a smile spread over his face, and he reaches over to bump Ryan's chest lightly. "Same goes for you, klutz."

He sees Ryan's white grin in the darkness, and knows that whatever was between them is over now. "Shut up." But then Ryan sobers, gripping Michael's shoulder. "But I'm serious, MP. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Calm down. I'll be fine. I'm not that incompetent."

Michael feels Ryan relax next to him. "Good. I want you around."

Michael smiles to himself, and rubs a hand over the muscled surface of Ryan's arm. "Yeah, I want me around too."

Ryan lets out a little sigh as Michael squeezes his triceps. "I think it's time for a payback massage."

"Uh-huh…when I have time." Michael says lazily into the pillow, already feeling his eyes start to close. "Catch you in the morning, then."

Ryan snorts. "If we're not all dead by then."

"Yup."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided that this may actually not be the crackiest fic I will ever write(there are so many disturbing mermaid ideas whirling around in my head), but it is pretty durn close.  
> For some reason, the Revival (yeah okay, I struggled to come up with a name) haven't found the Underground yet.  
> The title of this chapter is from Green Day's Know Your Enemy.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uN0UZ1EM-Jk


	4. I'm Gonna Burn It All Down

Ryan slips the pack of bullets into the pouch on the side of his cargo pants with a sigh, then stretches out in front of the mirror. He laces up his combat boots, which have been beaten down and scratched up through the years, and carefully inserts a knife in the side of one, just in case. 

He closes his eyes and does a quick mental run-through.

Knife? Check.

Extra bullets? Check.

AK-47, smuggled in from Milwaukee? Check.

Ryan smiles wryly to himself.

_Ready to fuck those Pig asses right into the ground, Ry?_ He can practically hear Michael say.

Check.

 

The Revival base in Detroit is about a half-mile walk from the Underground headquarters, and it's never a happy journey for anyone.

On the walk, Nathan starts up a round of I Spy to try to "stir up teamwork". It's pretty sad.

"I spy…something…red."

"Fire hydrant." Matt says grimly.

"Wow!" Nathan looks around. "I spy…something…that starts with a b."

"Building." Michael mutters.

"Incredible! Let's see…I spy something that…uh…starts with an r."

"Ruined building." Ryan says under his breath, then turns back to glare at Nathan. "I spy a moron who needs to shut the hell up before I punch his face in."

Nathan shrinks behind Ricky, who just laughs and bumps his shoulder, which is a good three inches higher than everyone else's, save for Matt's. "Poor kid. Oughta know better than to try to have fun with Ryan Lochte around."

Ryan rolls his eyes and keeps walking, ignoring Aaron's snort from the head of the group. Jason just remains stony-faced and unsmiling as always.

A little later, Ricky takes to whining about how much the rock in his shoe is bothering him, and they all have to sit and wait for him the unlace his boot, shake out the pebble (which has to be, like, a millimeter wide), and lace it back up. 

Michael and Conor valiantly try to engage everyone in a chorus of 99 Bottles when they near the halfway point, and by 95 bottles Matt just walks up and looms over the two of them threateningly, and that's enough to shut them up. 

It's never a happy journey for anyone.

 

When they get within twenty yards of the abandoned hospital, Aaron signals for all of them to shut the hell up and gathers them around himself with a wave of his arms.

"Alright, kids. Listen up." Aaron whispers. "Jason's going to scout the perimeter now, so y'all can just sit your butts down and wait until he's done." 

Ryan looks around to see Jason stepping quietly around the corner of the building they're hiding behind.

"Then, when he gives us the signal, we get to the south entrance and just go. 'Kay?"

They all nod, and Aaron looks a little unconvinced, like he needs to explain this a bit more.

"Okay. Well, Michael, when we get in there, there's going to be a vent on the far right of the hall. You get over there and do your thing." Michael nods. "They're definitely going to swarm us the moment we set foot inside, so you'll have to be quick."

"Got it."

"Then we'll take the usual formation after that. Ryan, you decided your front line?"

Ryan clears his throat. "I want Conor, Matt, and Ricky. Cullen and I can wing. Nathan'll take back."

Aaron raides an eyebrow at Conor's placement. Ryan hears Michael cough into his sleeve, but just chooses to ignore it. "You sure?"

"Yup." 

Aaron claps a hand on his shoulder. "Sounds good to me. Okay, team let's- "

"Aaron?" Nathan says a little timidly.

Aaron looks up at him. "'Sup, kid?"

A sheepish grin spreads over Nathan's face. "I've, been, um, working on some new models, and…"

Aaron groans. "Oh, sweet lord. What did you do this time."

Nathan extracts a ripped-up shirt, a bottle of some chemical, and a lighter out of his duffel bag, as well as a small, bright red square of god-knows-what. "I named it Jerry."

"Jerry?" Aaron snorts, taking the bottle from Nathan and inspecting it closely. "So, I'm guessing this is even worse than Joe."

Joe had been tested a couple months before and almost blew Nathan's clothes off.

"I hope." Nathan nudges closer to Aaron. "Sooo…can I try it? Please?"

Aaron raises his eyebrows. "Do you promise to use it responsibly?"

Nathan nods eagerly.

Aaron rolls his eyes and hands him the bottle back. "God. You're such a geek."

"Yesss!!!!" Nathan literally squeals and throws his arms around Matt, who promptly shoves him off. Suddenly, there's a beep from something on Aaron's belt, and everyone snaps to attention. Aaron checks one last time to make sure they're all ready, then motions them forward.  
"Let's go."

Ryan feels his pulse steadily accelerate the closer they get to the base, occasionally ducking behind a dumpster or a pile of rubble.  
They finally make it to about twenty feet away from the hospital, and by then, Ryan's heart is thudding in his chest so loud he's sure that Michael, who is crouched next to him, can hear it.

"Okay. Move in." Aaron motions to Michael to move to the back.

"Wait." Ryan hisses, grabbing Michael's arm. He suddenly loses his voice when Michael looks back at him.

It's something about his eyes. They're exactly the same deep brown, always have been for the fifteen years Ryan's been looking into them. Ryan doesn't know what it is, but something changes in his throat when Michael's gaze mets his.

"Um…" he rasps, and Michael motions for him to get on with it. Whatever just settled over him breaks, and Ryan takes his hand off Michael's wrist. Probably looks like an insecure moron. "Uh, like I said, don't get killed."

Michael rolls his eyes and musses Ryan's curly hair. "I'll be fine."

"If you're all finished here…" Aaron mutters, and Michael quickly retreats to the back.

"Jason, you read me?." Aaron whispers into a walkie-talkie he's magically pulled out of his belt-of-many-things. 

"Get up here already." Comes the crackle of static that is recognizable as Jason's voice. Ryan takes a few deep breaths. 

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Aaron beckons them forward, already standing. "You heard him."

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

The team moves silently toward the entrance of the hospital, meeting Jason along the way, and Nathan reaches the door first. He puts his ear to the door, tapping carefully with his knuckles around the knob. 

"All clear." He whispers, and Aaron nods them forward.

The door clicks open easily, and predictably, a screeching alarm sounds the moment they set foot into the building. Ryan hears the shouts of the Revival and their boots pounding on the floor above them, and tries to assume the steely outward appearance that Michael always has. Michael never freaks out at battles, at least, he doesn't show it, remaining silent and still until the time comes for him to spur his body into action. Ryan, however, is the exact opposite, and it fucking pisses him off sometimes.  
The team scrambles behind the corners of the hallway's walls, taking position.

"Move, Michael! Now!" Jason hisses from Ryan's right, and Ryan looks back to see Michael quickly pad across the floor and disappear behind the corner. 

_At least he's safe_ , is the last thing Ryan thinks before the door bursts open and the Revival pour through.

They come in a wave, at least thirty of them, wielding guns just as large and intimidating as Ryan's own. "Attack!" One of them screams, definitely the leader, face contorted into a deceptively human expression of rage.

"Forward!" Jason shouts, and Ryan pulls the trigger without a second thought.

The passage of time for Ryan is not present during raids. It all just happens in a series of scenes, often filled with blood, fire, and electronic hearts spilled onto the ground.

He sees Ricky and Matt ahead of him, each taking down at least five Revivers with one round of shots, Conor covering behind them. He's a little unwieldy with the gun, but so far, he's fine. Ryan shoots a Reviver in the face as it tries to get closer to Jason, who is doing his best to fight off the ones swarming toward him. They've recognized Jason as the man to kill now. He sees Cullen picking off the cyborgs, back pressed against the wall, from about fifteen feet away. With every bullet exploded from the barrel of his gun, a Reviver falls to the ground, but another just surges forward to take its place.

They beat the Revival back slowly toward the doors, but Ryan doesn't know what's going to happen when they reach the exit. It's all a matter of when Michael returns to them at this point. Then, it's like a spurt of strength rages through the beeping hearts of the Revival, and Ryan finds himself being herded back into the wall, along with the rest of his team. He loads another round of bullets in and shoots down as many as possible, but it seems like they just multiply.

Suddenly, Ryan realizes that Jason is no longer by his side.

"Ryan! Get them out of here!"

He whips his head around, and almost freezes in place as he sees a huge Reviver wrap its arm around Jason's neck and begin to drag him backward toward the doors. 

"Get the fuck out!" Jason yells, reaching around for his knife. It doesn't look like he's going to reach it in time.Ryan feels a wave of dread rush through him. It's one of the worst things to happen if the Revival capture you. He's heard awful stories of the torture methods they use, how unforgiving they are.

Ryan raises his gun and takes aim, but never gets a chance to pull the trigger.

He sees a silver blur, then a black handle buried deep into the Reviver's skull, and it falls, arm dropping away from Jason's throat. He sees Jason disappear, but he can't register that right now. It's what's above him. Michael is climbing swiftly out of a hole in the carbon frames of the ceiling, another knife between his teeth. In his back pocket is a tightly folded square of what looks like paper and hard drives. The only problem is, he's now the Revival's new target. One lets out a shout at Michael and aims his gun upward, his fellow soldiers following suit. Ryan can hear the shot as clearly as if it was next to his ear, and he sees Michael wobble a little. There's no safe way for him to drop to the floor without being swarmed by the cyborgs.

Ryan feels pure rage course through him, and he trains his own gun on the Revivers, picking them off one by one until there's nothing but their metallic blood running over the floor. Michael falls shakily to the ground, limping a bit as he gets up.

"Ryan, where's Jason?!" Aaron screams as he fights off three huge Revivers advancing on him. Ryan looks desperately around, he has to get to Michael, has to help him, but he doesn't see Jason anywhere. Ryan glances back at Aaron helplessly, and Aaron grimaces.

"Fuck." Ryan mutters, blasting off another cyborg as he fights his way to Michael. "Get the fuck out of here!" He hears Aaron yell over the gunfire.

Ryan pushes his way to Michael, who is surrounded by a group of gunless, yet very angry, Revivers. He's cornered, but Ryan can tell he's slowly inching his hand downward toward the tiny blade in his boot. Ryan doesn't wait for him to get to it, just mows down the Revivers surrounding him and grabs Michael, yanking him away from the wall and toward the doors. Michael is screaming something about not leaving Jason behind, but Ryan doesn't listen, can't hear over the gunshots. 

The rest of their escape is a blur: Aaron shouting at them to get out while they still can, they're losing this, Cullen desperately trying to hold his ground, and Ryan feels a spike of dread in his spine as he sees Conor fall, Matt reaching out for him.

Ryan and Michael stumble outside, coughing, just as Ryan realizes that the Revival has released cans of tear gas on them. He makes out Aaron sprinting toward them, and everything's fuzzy and smoky and he can't even tell what's real anymore, because the fucking gas is almost blinding him, choking him.

"Nathan! NOW!"

He sees Nathan flicking the switch of the lighter, the fire racing across the cloth.

Then there's a burst of flames from the hospital and shockwaves throw Ryan off his feet, still holding onto Michael as he falls.

 

Ryan wakes up to the sound of quiet crying.

He unsticks his head from the pillow it's been resting on, and winces his way into a sitting position on the couch. His head is spinning, and the smell of smoke is embedded into his clothes.

Ryan finally gets his bearings and turns to where the whimpering is coming from the other end of the room, cracking his stiff neck. He can only hear a soft murmuring, but he knows it's Michael's voice.

"Shh. It's okay, Nathan'll be here soon."

Another whimper. "Oh fucking hell…" It's Conor.

"Shh, Conor. Just hold on. Just hold on."

Ryan's head clears fully, and he now absorbs what's in front of him.

Michael is sitting against the whitewashed wall, Conor's head in his lap. There's a bandage around Michael's ankle and a scrape on his hand, but other than that, he looks fine. His fingers are brushing through Conor's hair and trying to calm him down. Ryan sees the stain of blood across his hip, the way he's crunched up into Michael, and feels a cold sweat pool in the small of his back.

Conor grits his teeth, whining softly and grabbing for his hip. Michael catches his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"Conor, don't touch it. Don't think about it, okay? He'll be here soon."

Conor nods in pained silence, clenching Michael's hand in his so hard that Michael's turns white around the knuckles. In a minute, he's fast asleep, hand relaxing.

Michael looks up and sees Ryan watching, and something in his face darkens, eyes narrowing. Ryan swallows, feeling his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"Hey." Ryan tries, but he can't get any further.

"Ryan." Michael says, regarding him coldly. "You're finally awake."

It doesn't sound like Michael's particularly glad of this fact.

"Um…" Ryan stands up, body creaking, and goes to sit next to Michael.

But Michael just draws Conor closer to himself and glares up at Ryan. "Do you even see what's in front of you?"

Ryan freezes. "What…"

Michael laughs under his breath, the sound harsh. "Conor was shot in the hip, you bastard." Conor whimpers in his sleep, and Michael runs a hand through his hair.

Ryan feels his own anger start to surface. "So? What does that have to do with me?"

"Because you put him in the fucking _front line_ , and it was his first time, you motherfucking idiot!" Michael spits, grabbing for a pillow next to him. He places Conor's head onto it, then turns back to Ryan. It's been a while since Ryan's seen Michael this pissed, especially at him, and it's more than a little intimidating."This is all your fucking FAULT!"

Ryan grinds his teeth together, trying to keep it all inside. But it's no use. "How was I supposed to know?!" Ryan's voice raises steadily, and he feels himself getting angrier and angrier. "I thought that the kid could handle it, but apparently not!"

"You can't just assume that!" Michael's standing now, and he stalks forward to get into Ryan's face. "I fucking told you not to put him in the front line, and what did you do? You didn't LISTEN, like always! When have you ever listened to me?!"

Ryan's anger is now welled up at full blast. He gets closer to Michael, in his face now, and feels a sick pleasure in seeing Michael step back a little. "Oh? I don't listen to you now? Well, do you wanna try leading an entire fucking team when you haven't even been in combat for a whole fucking MONTH?!"

"I'm saying that you need to think before you put a fucking fifteen-year-old into a frontline raid!"

"Well, what do you know?! All you do is slink around in you fucking catsuit and steal shit! You probably couldn't handle a gun if you tried, you fucking pussy!" Ryan sneers as Michael's face pales, his eyes widening. "Seriously, you might as well be a girl with that deadbeat daddy complex you've got fucked up there."

But it's not so funny when there's a sharp crack and he's suddenly flat on his back on the floor, Michael kneeling on his chest, knife at his ribs.

"Don't you dare…" Michael's voice is cold and deadly. "Don't you dare fucking bring that up."

Ryan smiles, feeling really fucking sadistic today. Fuck Michael and his fucking spy moves. Fuck everyone. "Come on, Michael." He glances down at the cold tip of the knife pressed at his ribcage. "You could never hurt me."

Michael looks down at him, and Ryan's just a little surprised to see that his eyes are starting to water. Their fights have never actually involved violence, of any kind, before, and Ryan knows that Michael's realization that he's holding a knife up to his best friend has just hit him too hard. "Ryan…"

But he doesn't care. He just doesn't fucking care.

"Get off." Ryan mutters, pushing Michael off him. "Get the fuck off! I didn't fucking ASK FOR THIS!" He yells back at Michael as he stands, stomping toward the door. He slams it behind him without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. So there was a lot of fighting and guns and violence in here.   
> Anyway, I am completely _awful_ at writing battle scenes, because by nature I am a very lazy and non-violent person. Ah well.  
>  Here's what I visualize what's inside the Revival to be...  
> http://www.cyberartsweb.org/cpace/cyborg/cyborgfood/images/cyborg.jpg  
> Pretty nasty.  
> This is their "base".  
> http://technoccult.zippykidcdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/abandoned-city-5.jpg  
> And the chapter title is from Horseshoes and Handgrenades.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yp1muwMcBzs


	5. There's Fire In My Veins, And It's Pouring Out Like A Flood

Ryan has a problem.

It didn't begin until he was maybe fourteen years old, after his first raid, and it was slowly making itself known before then, but it's always managed to resurface every now and then.

It isn't fun.

He storms into his room, feeling so angry, so fucking _angry_ , he's almost scared by himself. But no, he's used to this. He's been doing this for three fucking years to himself, he has a fucking grip on it by now. Ryan throws the curtain aside and wishes that it was a door, so he could give it a good slam. It makes him even angrier that the fucking thing is just a useless piece of cloth, and his eyes dart around the room, looking for something to throw against the wall and laugh at as it falls in pieces to the floor. But they land on something else, something more satisfying than smashing an object could ever be. He immediately locates the glint of the whiskey bottle sticking out from under his bed, and he advances on it. Ryan grabs it, gives it a wry smile, then disappears into the bathroom down the hall, the bang of the wooden door echoing behind him.

As he uncaps the bottle and takes the first rough swig, the hard liquor burning down his throat, it feels more like it's burning into his soul, erasing everything. This is the feeling that Ryan sometimes forces himself into thinking that he can't live without, the is feeling of fire racing across his chest along with the alcohol. He spots a pack of abandoned cigarettes on the floor and slumps down next to them, grabbing one and flicking his lighter against the tip.

Once he's lost himself, his mind, in the addictions, his thoughts wander to Michael.

Ryan can practically hear him saying, _Ry, c'mon, you gotta stop doing this_ , can see him coming in and sighing and gently removing the bottle from Ryan's limp, drunken hand.

Then Ryan would smile like the trashed idiot he turns into and pull Michael closer, and for some reason, he'd find himself starting to cry, even if there was no reason to.

Ryan takes more drinks out of the bottle and lets himself sink into his swirling void of dark memories.

 

_"Ryan, baby?"_

Ryan looked up from the game of "draw each other as unflatteringly as possible" he had started with Michael on the coloring book they had bought earlier at the bookstore.

_"We have to go now, hijo."_ Ileana Lochte said, Debbie Phelps next to her. _"Mama and Papa have that meeting tomorrow morning, and we have to get up early."_

Ryan pouted, looking over at Michael to indicate that he should do the same. _"Mamaaa! No!"_

Ike raised an eyebrow, and Ryan decided to pull all the stops and use her native language in order to win her over. _"Mamá, a sólo cinco minutos más."_

Ike laughed and scooped Ryan up in her arms. _"No, querida. Pero Michael puede venir con nosotros en el coche, y nos detenemos por un helado en el camino."_

Ryan turned to Michael, excited. _"You can come with us, and we'll get ice cream on the way!"_

Michael slapped his raised hand and Debbie laughed fondly. _"Alright, let's all go get some ice cream."_

A few hours later, the first bomb exploded, and the last memory Ryan had of his mother and father was of them screaming at him and Michael to run. 

So that's what they did.

 

Ryan snaps back to reality to tears coursing down his cheeks, and he can't help but let out a small sob. He digs around in his jacket pocket until he finds the last photograph he has of his mother, smiling and holding a six-year-old Ryan in her arms. His father's arms are around her.

"Mama…" Ryan whispers, and he feels like she's watching him drink out of the bottle and take shaky drags off the cigarette. He's never shame so strongly before.

"Mama, what's wrong with me?"

He sees her in front of him now, can feel her hand stroking over his cheek, and another tear escapes from the corner of his eye.

"What's wrong with me?"

When she doesn't answer right away, Ryan really starts crying. "Mama…"

"Nothing is wrong with you, hijo. You are perfect."

"But, I... I almost got my friend killed today, and Michael's so disappointed in me…but Mama, I didn't do anything, I just…"

"Don't worry about Michael, darling. You need to listen to him more."

"That's what he said, Mama, but I…" Ryan wipes at his eyes. "I just…"

"Shhh. You will be fine. I believe in you."

"But Mama, I can't even think anymore, and here I am just imagining you're here, but you're not…" Ryan lets out another small sob. "And you're never going to be here…"

"Darling, do not say things like that."

Ryan can almost smell her sweet Chanel perfume, and he feels her lips press to his cheek.

"Sometimes imagination is all we need."

Then Ryan feels a cold breeze drift through the room, taking the scent with it, and he knows that she's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate making Ryan this raging-bull-of-fury and sad, but I felt the need to give more proper explanation on his personality.  
> I used a ton of Spanish, so here's the translations.  
> querida: darling  
> hijo: son  
> Mamá, a sólo cinco minutos más: Mama, just five more minutes  
> No, querida. Pero Michael puede venir con nosotros en el coche, y nos detenemos por un helado en el camino: No, dear. But Michael can come with us in the car, and we stop for ice cream on the way  
> This title is from Christian's Inferno.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbq3serbXSo


	6. Saint Of All The Sinners

"What? So he just walked out?" Cullen asks as Matt touches up the bandage around the wound on his elbow where a bullet grazed it, wincing as Matt pulls it tighter.

Michael sighs, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I don't even know, Cullen…but I told that bastard that Conor wasn't ready, and he just…" Michael makes a frustrated noise, dropping his head into his hands. "I just fucking hate him sometimes!"

"Michael, you don't mean that." Nathan scolds from where he's nursing Conor's hip, applying some sort of reeking substance. The rule with Nathan's cures: the stinkier, the more effective it will be. 

"He's probably having another breakdown in the bathroom right now…" Michael mutters. "God, he always makes me feel like shit…"

Ricky coughs from where he's sitting across from Michael, looking awkward. "Michael…maybe you shouldn't have yelled at him."

Michael stares up at Ricky, pained. If he had been Ryan, he would've crossed the space between them and tried to wring Ricky's throat. But he's not. No, he always has to be the calm one, the one who's not allowed to lose his temper. "Ricky…is it my fault?" He's a little horrified to feel something prickling behind his eyes.

"Have you seen the way he looks at you, Michael?" Matt asks quietly.

Michael nearly chokes on the air he breathes. "W- what? Excuse me?"

Matt smiles to himself. "It's like he fucking loves you sometimes, Mikey. You might not see it, but we do." Everyone else nods solemnly.

Michael feels something that he hasn't felt before build up inside him, but he quickly swats whatever it is away. This is really not the way he wanted this conversation to go. "What are you even talking about, you old crackpot?" He laughs blankly, trying to get away from the subject, but to no avail.

"It's true." Cullen says. "When he smiles at you, it's like his face changes or some shit like that. I swear."

"B- but-" Michael sputters, flailing his arms in an attempt to convince them otherwise. "I…no! Ryan laughs when I fall during training! He steals my towel and I have to, like, streak across Mother just to get it back! Fuck no. No. NO."

Nathan rolls his eyes. "You think we don't know when you guys creep into each other's rooms and don't come out until morning? Please."

"That's not…no…" Michael sighs, suddenly feeling depressed. "God, now I feel, like, even fucking worse. Thanks."

Matt puts a hand on his shoulder. "The point is, when you yell at him like that, you might be hurting him more than you realize. That's all."

"But…you said that he…" Michael flushes. "What is all this…I mean, I don't see anything different, so clearly- "

"Oh, never mind." Nathan says fondly from across the room. "Just go and talk to him. He needs you more than you think he does."

Michael stands up, a little lost. "Okay."

As soon as Michael leaves, Nathan runs a hand over Conor's sweaty forehead and shakes his head.

"God, Conor. Those two." 

 

Michael navigates his way through Mother's winding passages to where he and Ryan's rooms are, his head feeling clogged and about to explode.

What Matt said… did he actually mean that? 

What if…

Michael scrubs his hand through his hair and looks around for something to punch, then realizes that he's stopped right in front of Ryan's room. Sighing, he gently pulls aside the curtain.

"Ryan?"

There's only silence, and Michael steps inside. He looks around for a few moments, realizing that Ryan's not in there.

Oh. He must be in the bathroom.

When Ryan goes into the bathroom, things are pretty fucking bad.

Michael creeps down to the end of the hallway, where the tightly closed bathroom door greets him. There's always been violent graffiti and love notes and just random shit written all over the insides and the door of the room, and no one ever feels the need to scrape it all off. When they first got to the Underground, he and Ryan scrawled some unintelligible mess near the handle. Michael doesn't remember what it says, or why they wrote it, just that it felt really good at the time to leave their mark somewhere in Mother. It felt like they would never be forgotten.

He extends a tentative hand, resting it on the doorknob.

"Ryan? You in there?" Michael says quietly, even though he already knows Ryan's inside. He turns the handle.

Ryan's curled up under the sink, the whiskey bottle barely held in his hand. There's a lit cigarette falling from his fingers, and a few more on the dirty floor. He's clearly been crying, and when he lifts his head, his cheeks are streaked red.

"Ryan." Michael whispers, crossing the small room to sit down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. Ryan doesn't shrink away or shove him off, just kind of relaxes.

"Hey, Mikey." He says, and there's a bit of a slur.

Michael feels something well up in his throat, and the backs of his eyes hurt again. "Ryan, I…" It really does feel like everything's all his fault now.

Ryan sniffles, and something inside Michael takes over his actions. Gently pulling the bottle out of Ryan's hand, he brings Ryan closer. He hears Ryan's voice crack, and then he's just breaking down, clinging to Michael's body. it makes Michael want to cry.

"Ryan…I'm really sorry. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault." Michael murmurs, shifting so that Ryan can relax. 

"Michael, she's gone. She's gone." Ryan sobs, burying his face in Michael's neck. "She's gone."

Michael's breath catches, and he brings a hand up to rub it through Ryan's curly hair. He's been imagining his mother again.

"I know. I know. Ryan, you have to- "

Ryan sobs again, squeezing Michael until he can barely breathe. "No, it's my fault, Jesus fucking Christ, it's my fault."

Michael chokes a little, this time from lack of air. "Ryan…I can't…breathe…"

Ryan sniffles, and it seems like he's calming down a little, however drunk he may be. "Sorry, sorry." But this almost sets him off again, his face crumpling. "I'm so sorry, Mikey…"

Michael feels torn in half, because he's feeling like a grade-A asshole right now, and he lets Ryan squeeze him tighter. He doesn't care if he can't breathe. "Hey, don't be like that. It isn't you, okay?" The smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes is filling his nostrils now, with Ryan so close, and he resists the urge to pull away. "Come on, Ry. Let's get to your room."

But Ryan doesn't really give any sign that he's heard, just clings to Michael's shoulders, shuddering. Michael sighs and tries to lift Ryan up with him, but he's too heavy. "Let's go. You need to sleep it off."

Finally, Ryan responds, getting shakily to his feet and grabbing Michael's hand. "Okay."

Michael half-carries him down the hallway, Ryan leaning heavily on his shoulder. He brushes aside the curtain and practically has to dump Ryan on the bed, wincing as Ryan hits the mattress with a dull thump. 

"So…" Michael says quietly, sitting next to him. "You wanna talk?"

Ryan doesn't answer, just lets his head hang low, and Michael decides that maybe he should leave.

He sighs quietly and puts his arm around Ryan, leaning his head into the crook of Ryan's neck. Michael knows not to bring up that day, but he wishes Ryan would just tell him what he's feeling once in a while. 

Just thinking about it brings up Michael's own horrible memories, of his own mother suddenly becoming a pillar of flame. It was as if she had no chance, just had to accept that she would be killed and leave her seven-year-old son to fend for himself, with only his best friend.

For a couple weeks, he and Ryan had lasted as best as they could, avoiding the groups of teenagers they sometimes saw skulking around the city. Ryan told Michael that they were up to no good, and whenever they saw them, they'd duck into the nearest building and hide. They scrounged off the food they found in grocery and convenience stores, and for a while, Michael thought that they might actually be able to make it.

But of course, such thoughts were dashed immediately when the cold of winter reached its most bitter, and there was no place to go.

The two of them had heard rumors of the Underground, the resistance living in Detroit's newly-constructed subway system. They'd vowed to each other that they would always look out for each other, and trust no one else but themselves. But one night, they lay shivering together on the floor of the supermarket, and Michael coughed. He'd tried to hide it for a few days, but it had just welled up and come out of him in a spasm that racked his body.

_"Michael?"_ Ryan whispered in the dark, immediately pulling him up to a sitting position. _"Are you sick?"_  
Michael shook his head determinedly, but Ryan obviously saw right through that. He made Michael look into his face.

_"I think we're going to have to get medicine. From the Underground."_ Ryan said quietly, running a hand through his short hair. 

_"No! Ry, we can't trust them!"_ Michael said, gripping Ryan's arm. _"I'll be fi- "_

But then another spasm of coughing had shaken his thin body until he was silenced, like a sort of punishment.

_"Michael!"_ Ryan steadied him, looking around to see if anyone had heard. There was only the deathly quiet that there always was at night. _"No, you're not! Stop denying it!"_

Ryan had always had strong protective instincts, and Michael was all too aware of that. But the cough was getting to him, and he could practically feel his strength sapping out of him. _"You have to promise me that it'll just be for medicine."_ He looked over at Ryan, trying to drill his point in to Ryan's mind. _"We can't stay with them."_

Ryan nodded, face grim, and gently pushed Michael back down. He slipped his jacket around Michael's shoulders, using the puffy hood as a pillow.

_"You need that."_ Michael rasped, trying to push it away, but he was already half-asleep. _"Ryan, you don't need to give everything up…"_ he yawned, letting out another cough in the middle of it. _"…for me…"_

_"But I want to."_

Michael's eyes snap open. He didn't realize that he closed them, and he wonders if Ryan noticed. He looks at the wind-up clock, and it's almost midnight.

"Alright." He gives Ryan's shoulder a squeeze, then, a little surprised with himself, leans down and kisses the top of Ryan's head. It's a normal reflex, Michael tells himself. "I'll be across the hall if you need me."

But as he's getting up, Ryan's hand wraps around his wrist.

"Wait."

Michael sits back down. "What?"

"Will you sleep in here wi' me?"

The alcohol's starting to settle in more deeply now, and Ryan looks like he's about to pass out, swaying even though he's just sitting down.

Michael exhales. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

He grabs the extra blanket off of Ryan's chair and wraps it around Ryan's shoulders, gently pushing him back against the pillows. "Second time this week, Ry…" Michael tries to joke, but Ryan just sniffles and motions for him to climb in.

Michael sighs, then kicks off his boots. He's still wearing his suit from the raid, and it's practically filthy.

"Hold on." He reaches a hand behind his back, drawing the zipper down, and reaches into Ryan's drawer to pull out one of his ratty old t-shirts. It was stolen from a thrift shop, and it reads, _You, sir, are a buttface._ Michael has to resist snorting out a laugh, because he remembers breaking into the shop with Ryan, and this was the first thing that caught Ryan's eye. He immediately fell in love with it.

"Remember this?" Michael says, stepping out of his suit and pulling the shirt on over his boxers. Ryan manages a small smile, and Michael feels one touch the corners of his mouth.

He slips under the covers next to Ryan, balling up as usual. Ryan murmurs, "No," and pulls him closer, one hand resting on the pillow between them. Michael smiles tiredly.

"Michael, don't go." Ryan mutters. "Don't."

"I'm right here." Michael says quietly, running one thumb over the back of Ryan's hand. He looks up, and Ryan's eyes are closed, his breathing even. 

"I know you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that I'm going to put speech in memories in italics. 
> 
> This is so Michael in his spy gear.  
> http://www.5577studio.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/scarlett-johansson-iron-man-03-1024x682.jpg  
> But, like, without the Scarlett Johansson part.
> 
> This chapter title is from ¡Viva La Gloria!. This is pretty much my favorite song from 21st Century Breakdown, besides 21 Guns, and I guess I'll be using a lot of lyrics from it as titles. It's just really good and awesome and omfg I love Green Day.   
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ArkPc1N5gw


	7. Say Your Prayers And Light A Fire, We're Gonna Start A War

"Alright, boys. Up and at 'em." Aaron's voice calls through the curtain. Ryan groans and sits up, rubbing at his eyes. His head hurts like hell, and he feels mildly nauseous.

Flashes of the night before come surging into his mind, and Ryan grits his teeth, forcing his brain to let go of them. He doesn't have time to think about what happened, because he knows that the way he is now, it'll probably just set him off again.

Michael shifts and murmurs something into his pillow next to him, and Ryan puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking slightly.   
"C'mon, MP. Aaron wants us up."

Michael whines and digs his face into the pillowcase, shrinking away from Ryan's hand. Ryan smiles, pulling the pillow out from under him. Michael's face goes into the pretty much rock-hard mattress, and he's jolted awake.

"The fuck!"

Ryan rolls his eyes, tugging on a strand of Michael's hair, which is sticking straight up off the back of his head. "Get up, lazy."  
Michael rolls over and cracks one eye open to stare up at Ryan. Then he sits up and, taking Ryan by surprise, hugs him tightly, arms linking around Ryan's neck. Ryan doesn't know what else to do, or what he's supposed to be doing, so he just dazedly lets his hands rest on Michael's waist.

A second later, Michael pulls back, not looking at Ryan. "What was that for?" Ryan asks, blushing for some reason.

"Nothing." Michael mutters, swinging his legs off the other side of the bed. "I'll be in my room, 'kay?"

"Um…" Ryan stares after Michael as he brushes the curtain aside and disappears into the hallway. "Um, okay."

Ryan shakes his head, confused why he can't stop blushing, and gets up to prepare himself for whatever Aaron's got in store for them.

 

 

He and Michael meet up with the rest of the team on the way, but Conor's not there. Ryan goes up to Cullen almost sheepishly.

"Hey. How's Conor?"

It doesn't look like the rest of the team blames him for anything, at least, not Cullen. "He's still sleeping. I think Nathan's magic potion'll have him fixed up in a month, tops. Maybe even a couple weeks."

Ryan exhales. "Good. Tell him I'm really fucking sorry when he wakes up."

Cullen smiles and claps a hand on Ryan's back. "It wasn't your fault."

They reach the end of the hall, but it seems empty without Jason's usual booming voice shouting orders at various underlings and the Trainees. 

Jason. Ryan hasn't even given him a single thought since he was captured, and it makes him feel kind of traitorous. Too busy getting wasted to think about anyone else. 

Ryan stops his brain from going any further with this and strides forward determinedly, knocking on the door.

"Come in." Aaron says from inside, voice muffled.

 

They enter silently and Aaron looks up at them, sitting at Jason's desk. His eyes are a little red, and Ryan drops his gaze down, knowing how Aaron feels. Aaron and Jason were always close, the original founders of the Underground.

"Hey, guys." Aaron claps his hands together, rising and shuffling his papers together. "Michael, good job on getting these to us."

"Thanks, Aaron." Michael says quietly, going over and putting a hand on Aaron's shoulder. He and Aaron had gotten to be friends over the years, Aaron almost like an older brother to Michael at times. "I'm really sorry about Jason."

"Well…" Aaron sighs, motioning for everyone to come closer. "I know. Jason is…" he takes a deep breath. "It's going to be a lot harder from now on. So." He brings their heads toward his own. "Tomorrow, I think we need to go try and get him back."

Ryan frowns. "Conor?"

"Leave him here." Aaron says. "He shouldn't go out for a while. Poor kid."

Ryan feels a stab of guilt. "Okay."  
"Anyway…Michael, those papers you found were a schedule of visits from Washington, a diagram, and a bunch of garbled codes. Nathan, I'm sure you can figure these out." Aaron says, handing a stack to Nathan. "Also, the hard drive has the blueprints of the Chicago base, which is incredible. I don't know if they're real, but we're going to need those if we even want to get close. Jason and I had been planning an attack to that for weeks, but…"

There's a few seconds of silence, then Aaron clears his throat and continues.

"But, I was looking over the schedules, and Washington will be coming to the Detroit base today. Apparently they sent out a distress call, and some Pigs from Chicago came overnight." Aaron's face darkens. "They…they took Jason to Chicago. Lord knows what they're doing to him. But we have to get him back." Aaron looks each one of them in the eye. 

"Jason's…in Chicago?" Nathan says, looking at the floor. "That's…"

"Terrible." Aaron finishes. "But today, I'm going to the base to, um…" A mischievous smirk flashes across his face. "Negotiate terms with them. Washington's going to be there." He looks up at Ryan. "Ryan, I want you, Nathan, and Michael to come with me."

Ryan nods, glancing over at Michael. He doesn't seem to be affected. "Yup."

"Good. So, the rest of you guys, just sit tight. You'll hear from me if anything happens. If you don't, then we're either dead or…"   
Aaron laughs dryly. "…we're dead."

"Got it." Matt answers, and Cullen and Ricky nod along with him.

"Alright." Aaron runs a hand over his face tiredly. "What happened was terrible. We don't even have an exact location on Jason. But…" He looks up, the look on his face steadfast. "We can't just let them get away with it, can we?"

"Fuck no." Nathan says, putting a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "I'm going to make another Jerry or two for tonight if anything happens."

Aaron laughs. "You go do that, and take the rest of these dorks with you, while you're at it. I need to concentrate."

 

 

Later, Aaron pushes aside the curtain to Ryan's room, holding a bag of gear for him.

"Hey, Ryan. Got your stuff."

"Thanks." Ryan stands and takes it from him.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

Ryan feels something gather in his stomach and threaten to spring out, but he swallows whatever it was down. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

Aaron motions for Ryan to sit down on the mattress, and settles next to him. "So, about the raid."

"Yeah."

"Um, I think that…" Aaron smiles, but it doesn't really reach his eyes. "Well, there's no tactful way to put this, but Ryan, do you feel like it's your fault that Conor's hurt?"

Ryan looks down, thinking whether he should tell Aaron how he really feels. Finally, he comes up with a suitable answer.

"Yeah. I do. And…" he looks up at Aaron. "I'm going to feel like shit until he gets better."

Aaron sighs. "That's what I thought. Ryan, it isn't your fault. You've probably heard that a thousand times by now, but I don't even know how much I can drill it into your head. It isn't."

"I know. I actually know that I shouldn't, you know, blame myself." Ryan says quietly. "But…it's just…"

"Michael yelled at you again?" Aaron asks, and Ryan almost chokes.

"H- how…"

"Please. I've seen the way you guys function around each other for, what, ten years now?" Aaron says, a knowing smile on his face. "He got mad, and you got mad, and then shit went down."

"But…but…" Ryan splutters. "I…"

"Don't try to hide it." Aaron laughs. "But, Ryan, when you do your, uh, thing where you get all fucked up and drunk, Michael…" He looks down. "Michael gets really worried about you."

Ryan feels almost ashamed. "I know he does. Sometimes I can't even control it anymore. But I don't want to hurt him."

"Hell no, you don't. Kid'll put a knife in your back if you hit the wrong nerve, probably." Aaron flops back, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "Ah, Ryan…your life sucks, doesn't it."

Ryan doesn't quite know what to say. "Uh. Yeah, it kinda does."

"Life just sucks." Aaron mumbles into his hand. "Life sucks!" He suddenly yells, sitting up and gripping Ryan's shoulders. "Come on, Ryan! Say it with me! Life SUCKS!"

Ryan feels a grin spreading over his face. "Life sucks." He says, and Aaron shakes his head.

"What was that? Can't hear you!"

"Life sucks!"

"Life SUCKS!"

"LIFE SUCKS!" They yell together, and Aaron smiles broadly, putting a hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"That feel better?"

Ryan grins. "You know, it actually does."

"Good. I'm gonna go get ready for this shit." Aaron stands up, stretching. "Make sure it looks like you're not going into combat, but stick a gun or two where they can see it so they know not to fuck with you."

"Got it. Thanks, Aaron." 

Aaron gives him a smile. "No prob. And, Ryan, that thing about Michael…"

Ryan looks back up. 

"Just… think about it, I guess."

Then Aaron's gone, and Ryan's left to just think about it.

 

 

He crosses the hall after he gets changed, brushing Michael's curtain aside. He's greeted with a screech and a shirt thrown at his head.

"Holy fuck- " Ryan yells, scrambling back and falling on his butt.

"Get out! Get out!" Michael screams from somewhere in the room, and Ryan pulls the shirt off his face to see what the fuck is going on. Michael stands at the other end of the room, butt-naked except for a bandana held over his crotch. His cheeks are flushed violently, and he looks enraged.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Ryan snorts, standing up. "I see you naked, like, every day."

But then Michael's pushing him away and out the doorway, wrapping the curtain around himself. "Just go away!"

"What…" Ryan feels oddly hurt. "But…"

"Perv!" Michael screeches in his face, yanking the curtain closed. "Go AWAY! I'll be right out!"

And with that, his red face disappears back into the room, and Ryan just stands there, dumbfounded.

He's seen Michael naked only around, oh, a THOUSAND times since they met. They maybe even helicoptered together in kindergarten. Ryan knows he's not being an obnoxious lech, but…like…he feels sort of betrayed. He doesn't even know why something like this would be awkward.

But as he thinks of Michael standing only a few feet away from him, pretty much with nothing on, and Ryan feels his cheeks heat up.

 _What?_

"The fuck." Ryan mutters, slapping at his face. "Is wrong with me."

The little bandana.

He literally cannot stop blushing, and it's like it was this morning, when all Michael did was hug him and suddenly he's like a thirteen-year-old girl.

Michael bursts out of his room, wearing the t-shirt and a pair of heavily-pocketed pants. "Okay, let's go get Nathan."

Ryan jumps slightly, eyes widening. "Um."

"What?"

"Michael…" Ryan's heart is beating faster, for some fucked-up reason. "What was all that back there?"

Michael just rolls his eyes. "What was what?"

Ryan stares, mouth opening and closing.

Michael laughs and grabs Ryan's hand, and fuck it if Ryan doesn't feel something constrict in his throat.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Let's go."

 

They walk slowly to the recovering base, discussing the plan of action. Ryan zones out eventually. He's heard this a thousand times before.

"If they shoot at us, you turn your asses and run." Aaron instructs as they near the hospital, pulling them in for a circle. "Nathan, you got Jerry?"

Nathan nods. "And Bob. And Joe. Actually, I even brought Billy, if you- "

"Okay, okay. We get it." Aaron smirks. "Nathan, if they shoot, you throw those things in whatever direction the bullet came from, _then_ you turn your ass and run."

Nathan smiles slyly, patting his bulging side pockets. "We're good."

"Alright." Aaron pulls out a large square of black cloth from his pocket. "Flag of parlay."

Ryan snorts. "What the fuck is that?"

Aaron grins. "Just means we want to," he makes air quotes, "talk. You read me, bro?"

"I feel you, breh." Ryan drawls, and Aaron laughs.

"Let's go get Jason back."

They approach the hospital in silence, treading carefully. Aaron waves the flag above his head, watching for any movement. Nathan and Michael stop every few feet to listen for the soft, tell-tale beeping of a sensor or the nearly-invisible trip wire.

"Let me do the talking." Aaron whispers as a Reviver opens the front door stiffly, waving them forward.

"You are here to see Washington?" It asks, a metallic edge to its voice.

"Yup." Aaron says, staring it down. It makes a disapproving noise, and Ryan notices Michael's hand slipping into his back pocket.

"This way." It grunts, leading them down the hall of the abandoned building. Ryan takes the opportunity to memorize his surroundings, wondering why it didn't at least blindfold them.

They come to the lobby, and waiting at the other end is none other than Washington himself, along with his right-hand man, Two.  
Washington stands in the light of the broken window, Two sitting in the chair beside him, and when he sees them enter, a fake smile plasters onto his face.

He's not particularly intimidating looking from far away, around six feet tall and with brown hair. Almost human. But Ryan's seen him up close before, and his soul almost froze over when he looked into his eyes. There was no light, no life inside them, only black voids, with no white edges, just pitch dark balls in his skull. Ryan hates to admit it to himself, but he was terrified the first time Washington looked at him.

Two is the one who is more physically awe-inspiring. A massive cyborg, almost seven feet tall, with chocolate brown skin and close-cropped black hair. He never talks, just stares, like he hasn't eaten for a week.

"How lovely to see you!" Washington calls, beckoning them toward himself. Ryan swallows, steeling himself. He pulled Michael back next to him.

"Yo." Aaron says casually, but Ryan can tell that he's already on edge. "'Sup?"

Washington laughs, but it's more of a harsh bark. "All is well. Now, who do you have with you today?" Ryan always thinks one of the creepiest thing about Washington is that he never forgets anyone's name.

"Nathan, nice seeing you again." Washington nods, and Nathan just stares ahead. Ryan sees his fist clench. Nathan's parents were government workers before the Revival takeover, along with Matt's, Ricky's, Cullen's, and Conor's. They were all good friends.   
Then the Revival took them away, and they were left without their mothers and fathers. Rumors were circulated that Washington tortured all the federal employees to death, because of their "sins."

"Ryan. You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you." Washington says, eyes falling on Ryan. Ryan glares and raises one corner of his mouth in disgust. Washington just smiles back, then he notices Michael. And Ryan sees the hunger rise up in his eyes.

"Michael, darling! Hello!" Washington exclaims. "How are you?" Michael shrinks back.

Washington makes a move to step forward, reaching for Michael's waist, but Ryan's not about to let that happens. He makes a noise almost like a growl in the back of his throat, pulling Michael towards himself. Washington just looks irritatingly amused.

"He doesn't want to talk to you." Ryan says, eyes narrowed.

Washington puts up his hands, still just fucking smiling, and turns to Aaron. "Well, shall we discuss the current, ahem, business, then?"

Aaron smiles wryly. "Of course."

"You are aware, of course," Washington walks smoothly to the table in front of Two, taking a mint. Ryan wants to punch his fucking face in. He offers it to Aaron, who declines with a wave of his hand. "That your leader is currently in our possession."

"I am." Aaron says, matching Washington's calm. "And we'd like to negotiate the terms of his…return to us."

Washington pauses, turning his back to them and looking out over the ruins of the city. "I'm afraid that we cannot offer him back to you. Unless…" he looks over his shoulder. "You are willing to trade."

Aaron's eyes narrow. "I don't think that's possible."

Washington smirks. "I've had my eye on the members of your team for quite a while. This one, especially." He gestures to Michael, who presses back into Ryan's arm. Ryan tightens his grip on his waist.

"I'll have to decline your offer. I refuse to trade Michael like he's some sort of property." Aaron grits. Washington's clearly getting on his nerves now.

"Ah, but I think that decision lies with Michael, does it not?" Washington murmurs, looking at Michael almost predatorily. "Michael, what say you? You can work for me. Just serve me for a year or two, then I'll let you do whatever you want." Washington smiles. "But first, I get to do whatever I want with you."

Ryan can practically hear Michael sending out distress calls. But he knows that Michael is just as strong as he is.

"Fuck no." 

Washington looks a little surprised, but recomposes himself quickly. "Excuse me?"

"I said." Michael slides Ryan's arm off, stalking up to Washington. Ryan almost pulls him back. "Fuck. No."

"Oh, really?" Washington smirks. "Are you sure? Think, Michael. You'd have so much freedom, so much in store for you. Just say the words."

Michael laughs harshly. "You think you'll get me that easily?"

Washington takes a step backward.

"You think that?" Michael smiles. "I'm offended. You assume I'm so weak, I have no other choice but to give myself over to you."  
He moves forward, getting into Washington's face. "Well, you're wrong. So fucking wrong. If you won't give Jason back to us, we'll fight for him like the real men that we are. I doubt that you could ever understand that." Michael laughs again. "Don't you understand by now? We will never give up until you…" he gestures around himself. "And all your Revival are dead."

Washington's mouth is now a thin, angry line, and his black eyes turn to slits.

"So, you can just fuck off. We'll get Jason back. You can count on it." Michael gives one last satisfying smirk, and then he turns to the rest of the team, staring in shock. Ryan feels the urge to clap, but it would totally ruin the mood.

"Let's get out of this shithole." Michael says, turning on his heel. Aaron looks at the rest of them, a mixture of shock and awe on his face, and follows Michael. Ryan grabs Nathan's arm and pulls him alongside him, just as shocked as Aaron is.

The problem is, he has to turn his back on Washington.

And by doing so, he doesn't see Washington gesturing to Two.

Or Two pulling the gun out of his pants pocket and aiming it at him.

The last thing Ryan remembers clearly is a searing pain in his side, and the floor being closer than it should be, then darkness punctuated with shouts and gunshots.

 

 

"Aaron! I can't lift him! Aaron!"

Michael.

"Hold on! Nathan, go!"

Aaron.

 

 

A burst of orange, the thundering slam of a door.

The enraged roar of Washington, carrying through the flames as the base steadily burns.

 

 

"He's not dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, that was so darn long. Sorreh.  
> I'm also making Ryan pass out a lot…¬_¬ *is lazy*  
> Well, I got to Washington and Two. Gross characters. He and his Revival are also known as the Pigs.  
> This title is also from Viva La Gloria.


	8. Restless Heart Syndrome

"So, just give that to him. He'll be fixed up in no time." 

"Got it. Thanks, Nathan."

"No problem."

Ryan cracks one sticky eyelid, wincing as the light washes over his retina. He pries open the other, taking in his surroundings, which seem to be painfully bright. The only thing that's giving off light is a candle. He immediately recognizes Michael's blurry body, standing at the table next to the curtained entrance, his back to Ryan. He's fiddling around with something, and he hasn't noticed Ryan's awake yet.

Ryan looks blearily around. He's in his room, and it feels warmer than usual. Something feels a little…off in his brain, like he can't match what he's seeing to identifications. It's not fatal, he decides, but it's not a pleasant feeling.

Michael makes a satisfied sound from where he's standing, and he turns around.

"Hey," Ryan murmurs, drowsy, but then Michael's suddenly at his side, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Ryan grunts, the dull ache in his side making itself known.

"You're awake." Michael says into his shoulder, and Ryan rubs a hand up his back, which is trembling slightly.

"Yup." 

"Please don't pass out ever again." Michael mumbles, burying his face in Ryan's shoulder. Ryan feels too tired to blush, but fuck it, he doesn't have to. Does he?

Ryan wants to say something, to tell Michael that he's fine, but his eyes close of their own accord, and he sinks back into unconsciousness.

 

He wakes again to a cool cloth pressed to his forehead, which is taken off the moment he opens his eyes.

"Whassat?" Ryan mumbles, but Michael just shakes his head and runs a hand over Ryan's forehead.

"Well, at least you're not burning up."

Ryan suddenly feels a sharp stab in his side, and he grits his teeth, wincing. Michael sees this and frowns, coasting his hand through Ryan's hair.

"Here, take this." Michael places a small white pill in his open hand, and Ryan looks at it dubiously. "Don't worry. It's not a Nathan Creation."

Ryan manages a smile, and pops it into his mouth. Within just a few seconds, the pain in his torso begins to fade away. "What is this?"

Michael shrugs. "Some kind of painkiller." Ryan shifts, trying to sit up, and Michael steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. "Whoa there."

Ryan just looks up at Michael, watching how the light from the candle sends shadows flickering from his eyelashes onto his face. There's a small burn on his cheek, nothing serious, but still there. Without thinking, Ryan reaches out and touches it. "Where'd this come from?"

Michael smiles, his cheek bunching up into Ryan's palm. Ryan feels his own face heat up now, against his will. "Nathan threw his…assortment. Burned the whole base down. There's literally nothing left."

"Awesome." Ryan lets his hand drop on top of the blankets. "By the way…" he points down at his torso. "What did they do to me?"

Michael's lips press together. "They shot something chemical-coated into you. Bastards." He looks away, clearly still angry. "God knows what was in it, but it's all out now."

"Yay."

Michael looks down at him, and their eyes lock. Michael smiles, hand coming out to stroke through Ryan's hair again. Ryan's eyes close, because it actually feels really good. Michael keeps up with the motion for a long time, until Ryan's almost back asleep.

"Ryan." Michael says quietly, shifting so he's sitting next to Ryan on the mattress. Ryan's heart beats impossibly fast as he realizes that he can feel Michael's breathing, his own heartbeat, they're so close together. "Aaron want me to go talk things over now."

Ryan nods mechanically, unable to speak.

"I have to go." Michael murmurs.

Ryan nods again, but he stops as Michael leans close to him. And Michael's lips are suddenly pressed to his forehead, just there for a fleeting moment, then there's a rush of cold air as Michael pulls away.

"Get some rest."

Then Michael's gone.

Ryan furiously tries to calm his face down. Get some rest, my ass, he thinks, bunching up the sheets in frustration. Sleep is the last thing I'm going to be able to get now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, so I just went to Green Day at the Allstate Arena near Chicago.  
> And. Whoa.  
> They are an incredible band. Billie Joe Armstrong put on the best performance EVER, and he made literally everyone cry and laugh and shout the lyrics and asdfghjkl. They are so inspirational. I love them. I'm going to go die now.  
> This chapter title is the song Restless Heart Syndrome.   
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fm5uY5hSA-8


	9. Louder Than Bombs and Eternity

Ryan lies by himself in his bed, still breathing hard five minutes after Michael left him there.

He literally cannot figure out what is wrong with him. A few days ago, Michael freaking sat on his lap, and he didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Ryan checks under the sheets to make sure his dick is still there. Maybe he's PMSing, and the Revival took him when he was sleeping and gave him a vag. 

But, apparently not.

Ryan groans, twisting uncomfortably. He can't even figure out if Michael knows that he's like this. Because his mind keeps wandering back to earlier that day, when he walked in and Michael just…flipped.

He doesn't get why he suddenly can't stop thinking about the way Michael's abs clenched up when he bent over. Or how he looks when he wears that tight black suit, and the way it kind of clings to his skinny ass. Which hasn't been so skinny lately, more toned. And when Michael smiled at him, it just made something in Ryan's chest hurt…

Shit.

What.

A terrifying notion comes to Ryan's mind.

What if I… 

Ryan can't bring himself to finish the sentence, but he sure as hell knows how he was going to finish it.

But. No.

Ryan takes a few deep, calming inhales, freaking out. He wants to squeeze something until it dies, then laugh in its face in order to counteract the idiotic thought that just crossed his mind, but settles for ripping up a corner of the sheet covering him. This cannot be happening. It's just…not possible. He's known Michael for fifteen fucking years, since they were two years old, and they've been strictly best friends that entire time, and that's that, so, why would he just now…

NO, Ryan screams silently at himself, clenching his teeth together. Stop THINKING about it. I'll just forget about it forever and ever. I'll never think about it again.

Not quite satisfied, Ryan decides that the drugs in his body are probably affecting his emotions. That must be it. A good sleep will take care of everything.

 

 

Two days later, Ryan's chest still hasn't returned to normal, his stomach feels like it's flying around in his torso, and he has to look away every time Michael's eyes meet his, cheeks flushing. And on top of that, the drug is still in him, and he feels nasty as all fuck. He can't even think properly, dammit. Ryan feels like he's being incredibly obvious, and every time one of the other members of their team looks at him, it's like they know everything, can see inside his soul.

It's miserable. 

But Ryan continues to valiantly deny it. It. He has to. 

Because it just isn't possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to switch to a bit of Michael's POV. Thanks for reading, peeps! Imma do this!   
> Chapter title is from Song of the Century.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEKgTUvz9HA


	10. All I Want To Do Is Breathe

"Hello, Michael!"

Michael looks behind him to the line of rooms across the tracks where he's running, getting a package of papers to Aaron. It's Danielle, Jason's wife, and she's waving him over.

"Hey, Danielle!" He calls, hopping down off the platform and crossing the railway, the tracks having long lost their electricity. "Anything I can do for you?"

She smiles, helping him up, but it's sad. Michael knows Jason's absence is weighing heavily on her. "No, I'm fine, dear. I was just wondering if you could bring this to Aaron." She holds out a huge paper bag. "They're enough sandwiches to last him the rest of his life."

"Of course." Michael puts a hand on her shoulder. "Danielle, I'm really sorry about Jason."

"No, dear, don't…" She blinks a few times. "Don't worry about me. I know you'll get him back."

"We will. Hang in there."

Danielle gives him another smile, than motions towards the end of the tunnel. "Get going! Aaron needs you."

Michael grins, hopping down off the platform and heading towards Aaron's office.

"And eat a few sandwiches! You're too skinny!"

Michael laughs and disappears down the tunnel, waving behind him.

He gives the copies of the blueprints to Aaron once he gets into his office, who warns him to watch out for scouts from the Revival. "Some of the ones from Chicago might have followed us here. We have to keep on our toes."

"If I see one, do you want him dead or alive?"

"Dead, obviously."

"Got it."

Michael turns to leave the office, but Aaron stops him. "Oh, and Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to take a few weeks off. Let everyone recover, get back into shape."

"Yeah." Michael thinks of Ryan, and the sheen of sweat covering his forehead as he slept. "I think we need that."

"Good." Aaron waves him away. "But, Michael…"

Michael looks up at him. "What?"

"I think…I think we're getting pretty close to the big one."

Michael inhales, whistling. "You mean Chicago?"

"Yup." Aaron grimaces. "After we hit the base at Highland Park…well. I mean, I found this guy who'll drive us partway, and Jason's there, and we've been thinking about this for a while. Why not just get it done?"

Michael can tell Aaron's trying to sound casual. "Yeah…yeah. I'm all for that."

Aaron smiles at him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You think you're up for it?"

"Hell yes."

Aaron shakes his head, grinning. "Well, then. Can't be too confident, can ya?"

"Not with my mad skills, are you kidding?" Michael laughs.

"Get out of here." Aaron snorts, pushing him to the door. "But, I'm serious. You should start preparing as soon as you can." He looks Michael in the eyes. "Cause, you know, this might be it."

"I know. Don't worry."

"Just tell the other guys."

 

 

Michael walks back to his and Ryan's compound of the Underground, feeling a little apprehensive. He knows they'll have to get Jason back. It's not an option. And to get to the Chicago base, they first have to destroy the Highland Park one, almost as heavily guarded as Chicago. 

It just feels like too much. Too much, too fast.

He sighs, catching sight of his reflection in a glass billboard on the station wall. Whatever it was advertising is now faded beyond recognition. Michael walks up to it and pinches his slender arm critically, grimacing as his fingers meet hard bone. Sometimes he wishes he had Ryan's burly muscles, but no matter how many hundred pound bars he benches, or at least tries to bench, he can't seem to bulk up. It's infuriating, like his body refuses to respond to his efforts, just remains its skinny self. While he still looks like a boy, Ryan's filled out, becoming more and more of a man. An image in his mind pops up of a stick-thin seven-year-old Ryan playing Yu-Gi-Oh with him on his bedroom floor, and Michael smiles to himself. So much has changed, but he bets if he asked Ryan to, they'd totally still play Yu-Gi-Oh together like they did when they were seven, just probably with more cussing and violence as they lost life points.

Michael's mind takes him back to a few days before, when he had yelled at Ryan to get out of the room. He flushes, thankful that the station is relatively empty for the time being.

I mean, I _was_ naked, he reasons with himself. It's not like Ryan's entitled to just stare at my body when he wants to.  
Michael blushes harder, frowning.

But why did I make it awkward like that?

It was like it was the first time Ryan had seen him without clothes on. But it totally wasn't. And Michael doesn't even know why he reacted the way he did. It was just…awkward, for some idiotic reason that Michael can't put his finger on. But all he knows is that he wants things to get back to normal, and fast.

"Hey, Michael!" Conor calls from across the station, walking with Ricky. Michael's head snaps around. He didn't even hear them, dammit, he was so phased out.

He brushes it away and jogs over. "What can I do for you, good sir?"

Ricky bats his eyelashes. "Well…we were wondering…" Conor gives his most patronizing smile, which is pretty damn patronizing.

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Out with it." Michael says, raising an eyebrow.

"Will you make lunch for us? We're too lazy to do it…" Ricky says, sliding behind him.

"And Nathan and Matt told us to go the fuck away, and we don't know where Cullen is." Conor finishes, a huge smile on his face.  
Michael scoffs. "You know I can't cook. And the only one who can is Ryan, and he's, like…in a coma. He's been asleep for a whole day."

"Pleeeease? We'll, like…give you a hug…"

Michael rolls his eyes. "Fine, but don't expect anything incredible."

"Yes!" Conor and Ricky high-five each other, than crush Michael in their arms. "Go! We're starving!"

Michael shakes his head, but he's smiling, and heads toward the kitchens. Luckily, there's a lot of them in the Underground, and there's one right across from his and Ryan's rooms. 

"Hey, Brenda, can I use the oven in a little?" Michael asks the cook, his head in the pantry.

"Whatever you need." She answers, stirring up something really good-smelling in the giant copper pot on the stove.

He passes Ryan's room and decides to check in on him, pulling the curtain aside. "Ry?"

He's asleep, peaceful breathing barely audible. Michael smiles, crossing the room to sit next to the bed. He guesses that the drug's almost worked its way out of him by now, and he's starting to look a little healthier.

In the light, Ryan looks so young. Michael can still see the little boy with the curly hair and defiant sparkle in his eyes that Ryan used to be. He can't help it. Michael reaches out and runs his fingers through those curls, and even though he's done that hundreds of times before, when Ryan was actually conscious, it feels new. 

Ryan stirs, a soft sound coming out of his mouth, and Michael takes his hand away.

"I'll be in the kitchen." He whispers, then gets up and leaves, reluctantly drawing the curtain closed behind him.

 

 

Michael turns around, hearing a noise in the doorway of the kitchen, and sees Ryan swaying slightly, leaning against the doorframe.

"You woke up."

Ryan grins sloppily, Nathan's meds still in his bloodstream. "I did." He sounds like he's high or something. He coughs, the sound rattling in his throat, and walks slowly up to Michael. "Whatcha makin'?"

Michael goes back to the spaghetti in the pot, suddenly not able to look at Ryan. "Just pasta." 

Ryan's suddenly across the room, standing really fucking close behind him. Like, _really_ close. Michael swallows and turns his head away, picking up the pot with a glove and convincing himself that his hot cheeks are just from the steam of the noodles, and nothing else. Nothing. Else.

"Mm…" Ryan says coherently, and Michael laughs.

"You're so drugged up." Michael remarks, looking over his shoulder, and nearly drops the pot. Ryan's so close to him, he's almost pressed against Michael's back. Ryan smiles lazily, and Michael furiously turns back to stirring the noodles, water almost splashing over the edge.

"Am I?" Ryan murmurs, and then his arms are suddenly around Michael's waist, pulling him back into himself. Michael squeaks, because oh my fucking god that shouldn't be legal. "I guess I am, huh?" 

"Y- y- "

"What'd ya say?" Ryan slurs, and Michael has to remember how to have a beating heart as Ryan's head comes to rest at the back of his neck, breathing hot air on his spine. _Jesus fuck, why is he so fucking close, fuck, fuck-_

Then Michael catches himself thinking what he's thinking, and acting how he's acting, and he steels himself, trying valiantly to focus on the spaghetti. But it's practically impossible with Ryan pressed against him like that, and _Jesus, he's, like, fucking touching me and fuck_ , but he's kind of hot, and-

NO.

"NO." Michael gasps out, then claps a hand over his mouth, letting the spoon clatter to the floor.

Ryan frowns blearily, pulling away, and Michael draws in a deep breath. "Why'd you drop it? C'mon, MP, I know you're a klutz, but you're not this bad."

"Just…jitters…" Michael says in a high-pitched voice, but his mind is racing around and around in his skull, uncontrollable.

Is this…what it feels like…

Michael's thankful that Ryan's so zonked and unaware because he usually would've been on the grill by now, Ryan demanding to know what's screwing him up.

It can't…no.

No.

Michael forces himself to breathe. "Ryan…"

Ryan looks at him, his eyes unfocused. "Buh?"

"Do you…" Michael squeezes his eyes tight, because he doesn't want Ryan to see the expression in them. "Do you know where Ricky and Conor are?"

"Nuh…" Ryan mumbles, and it looks like he's going to wrap Michael back up in his arms again, but Michael's not about to let that happen. He tosses the spaghetti into a giant bowl while jutting out his elbows to ensure safety, pours the sauce messily on top, then dashes for the door.

"WellthenIhavetogobyegetsomemoresleep-" Michael squeaks from the doorway, then sprints away from the kitchen and a shocked Ryan.

He hastily finds Conor and Ricky in the hall, and shoves the pasta into their hands. "Here! Take it!"

"Oh, thanks, Mike- " Conor starts, but Michael's already gone, his footsteps echoing throughout the station.

Ricky blinks. "What was that all about?"

Conor thinks for a moment, then turns to Ricky, a sly look on his face. "You think he's starting to figure it out?"

"Nooo…" Ricky gapes, eyes widening. "Oh my god, I think he is! His face was all red!"

Conor grins evilly, cackling. "This is gonna be good."

Ricky smirks, eyes following Michael's rapidly retreating back. "That moron."

 

 

Michael races down the tunnel, feeling strangely like he's about to cry. It's not as strong a feeling of grief, but something more like a deep ache in his chest that won't go away. 

_Did it start when Ryan walked into the kitchen?_ Michael asks himself frantically, heading for the gates of the Underground. It's one of the places he goes where he just has to think.

No, the feeling had been there for a while. Michael had felt something drop in his throat at training a few days before, and it had slowly been working its way through him ever since. It wasn't necessarily…bad, just strange. Michael had never felt anything like it before.

 _Should I even try to figure it out?_ Michael wonders, sitting down at a bench, the station empty.

He lets his mind wander back to the kitchen, and how his chest felt like it was slowly burning when Ryan held him. Michael curses himself silently. It shouldn't have felt like that. It's not supposed to, Ryan hugged him all the time before then, why did this suddenly turn up now. Michael sighs, and is horrified to feel his eyes well up as he thinks of Ryan stretched out on his bed, meds coursing through his veins.

"What the fuck." He mutters, wiping at his eyes angrily. This should not be happening. He's seen Ryan get shot before, and he didn't cry. He's seen a bombshell almost explode on Ryan's face, and he didn't cry. So why…

Michael makes a frustrated noise and tries to visualize Ryan in his head. It isn't hard. Permanently tan skin, only the occasional zit. Light brown curls. Straight, Greek-god-style nose that Michael hates with every shred of his soul sometimes. Bulkier build than him, but maybe an inch or two shorter.

 _I guess you could think of him as hot._ Michael thinks to himself, gnawing on a nail. But he's never really considered the matter before, just looked at Ryan and seen Ryan, not some stud muffin. They're best friends, and only best friends. Nothing more. Michael decides that then and there, but something's lacking in proof.

Michael doesn't even know if Ryan's gay or not. He's had his suspicions about himself, and what the hell, after so much time around boys his whole life, he probably is, but Ryan's the last person he'd think of as a homo. Michael knows that none of the other guys on the team would give a damn. 

But.

 _Should I ask him?_ Michael wonders, and quickly dismisses the thought. It would just make things more awkward than they already are. 

_Besides, even if he is gay, he wouldn't like me._

Michael flushes violently, twisting both hands in his hair and feeling on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He literally cannot believe he just thought what he did.

_WOULDN'T LIKE ME? WHAT AM I, IN LO-_

Then Michael has to shut down his brain, squeeze his eyes shut and think of dead kittens, and just fucking stop, because that is one thing he just cannot handle right now.

 

 

A week later, Michael has learned to control the ache in his chest. It involves looking at Ryan as little as possible, making as little contact with him as he can manage, and just ignoring him in general. It sucks. But Michael's determined to get over this. It's going to ruin everything if he accepts it as it is, and that's not even an option right now. There are more important things to deal with, like prepping for the Highland Base. Aaron announced that they'd be attacking it in a few days, once Ryan was fully recovered and Conor was back in his game, as well as something else. He'd called them all into his own room, and Michael had immediately recognized that it was something serious.

"Boys." Aaron said gruffly, getting straight to the point. "I was wondering if you…" he sighs. "First off, don't feel any pressure. But I was wondering if you wanted to go it alone."

Michael felt apprehensive, but somehow, there was a glimmer of hope that they might actually be able to pull that off.

"I mean…" Matt mumbled from the corner, "I guess…I guess we could. But, like, why?"

Aaron smiled fondly. "Well, I've been thinking. And I realized that, well, if I somehow…get lost, or get killed, it's going to be hard for you. So, I thought that I would give you a chance to do a raid by yourself. I think you're definitely old enough. You work extraordinarily well together. You take care of each other. And above all, you could kick the Revival's ass if you set your minds to it. So…what do you all say?"

They'd pretty much been in unanimous agreement.

So here Michael is, on a Sunday morning, bored to death with training and, in general, feeling miserable. He has nothing else to do, so he slumps out of his room to get a look at what's happening up in the world.

Being outside has always refreshed Michael's mind, cleared his head. As soon as he feels the cool breeze brush against his clothes and skin, he lets out a grateful sigh and bounds up the last of the steps leading out of the station. He waves at the guards at the entrance, who tip their makeshift helmets and let him pass.

Michael finally feels like he's able to breathe once he gets out of the Underground, inhaling deeply. The air smells like the last chills of winter are fading away, and that distinct scent of spring is making itself known. Michael turns his face up to the blue sky and feels the sun immediately infuse him with energy, closing his eyes and feeling a smile form at the corners of his lips.   
He walks in no particular direction, stopping at the market on the corner of the street. He remembers Matt begging him to get some cookies, and Michael decides to just go and get it over with, crossing the street and going into the supermarket.  
Michael's contemplating between years-stale Oreos and Chips Ahoy when he hears the sliding doors of the supermarket open. He frowns, looking down the aisle, and almost drops the package in his hands in shock.

There's a fully-armed, adult male Reviver entering the store, a massive gun in his hands. A scout, by the looks of it.

Michael remembers Aaron's warnings of scouts, and how they are trained to capture or kill anyone who isn't a Reviver on sight. He takes a deep breath, hoping that the Reviver hasn't noticed him yet.

Michael puts the cookies back on the shelf without a noise and silently starts backing away from the doors, which are right in front of his aisle. His hand finds his back pocket instinctively, but shit, he didn't bring his knife, shit. SHIT. _How could I be so stupid?_ Michael thinks frantically, looking around him for a projectile, even a butter knife, anything. _Aaron told us a thousand times, never go aboveground without a weapon, shit-_

Suddenly, the Reviver rounds the corner of the aisle, and Michael gasps, his heartbeat immediately accelerating. The Reviver's gaze snaps to him, and it raises its gun. Michael feels himself almost choke in fear as he swallows, taking a tentative step back. It must be twice his weight and a good five inches taller.

"Don't move." It commands, and Michael stops everything, taking a moment to assess the situation.

_If I could duck around to the other aisle…no, it's too fast…_

"Get over here." It says, devoid of emotion, and Michael obeys, walking casually up, but inside, his heart is beating out of control.  
"Are you one of the- " It begins, but then Michael strikes. Quickly closing one hand on its shoulder, he brings his foot up and into the Reviver's huge skull, making a ringing sound and causing it to drop its gun in shock, clearly an inexperienced fighter. Michael tries to scramble back, but the Reviver's gotten its bearings by now. It grabs his wrist and squeezes nearly hard enough to break it, roaring in anger, and Michael screams, panicking.

Then, there's the sharp bang of a gun, and the Reviver falls to its knees in front of him, hand still gripping his wrist painfully.  
Michael looks up, shaken, and sees Ryan hurrying in through the doors, a rifle in his hands. He feels his knees tremble and fail him, and he's about to fall to the ground. Then Ryan's there, and he's catching him before he hits the floor.

"Oh my god, Michael," Ryan breathes, and he's crushing Michael to him. Michael can't react, just goes limp and tries to calm his pulse down. "Oh my fucking god, are you okay?" Ryan runs his hands up and down Michael's back, then pulls away and looks him over for any wounds.

"No, I'm fine." Michael murmurs, and Ryan just makes a noise of relief and hugs him close again. "That guy's not, though."

"You stupid idiot, you stupid fucking idiot, why did you not bring a knife? Or a gun, or something?!" Ryan mutters, his head buried in the crook of Michael's neck. He pulls back and shakes Michael by the shoulders, anger tainting his darkened eyes. "And Aaron told us never to go out alone! Did that even get through your head?!"

Michael can only blink and breathe, still a little rattled. "I..."

Ryan seems to gain control of himself, letting Michael go and pulling him to his feet. "Whatever. But you have to promise me that you'll fucking TELL me when you're above ground."

Michael nods and closes his eyes, breathing hard. Something in Ryan's face softens, and he wraps his arms around Michael again, more gently than before.

"Sorry. You just don't know how fucking worried I got. I thought you were gonna die up there when I heard they spotted a Reviver hanging around the city."

Michael feels really…guilty or something now, and he loops his arms around Ryan's neck, holding him tighter. Ryan didn't deserve that, and really, Michael could have told him he was going out, but he just couldn't muster up the nerve to look him in the eyes, much less talk to him, and god dammit, there's the stupid fucking feeling in the left side of his chest.

"No, I'm the one who should say sorry. I'll be more careful."

"Yeah, whatever." Ryan sounds like he's just run a ten-mile race. "I just, I saw that thing assaulting you, and I just…oh god. Please, Mikey, just don't ever do that again."

Michael smiles, slowly letting himself breathe in and out. "I know. I'm sorry. But, Ryan…"

"Mm?"

"Can we, uh, get out of here now? I just wanna, like…go."

Ryan smiles then, slinging an arm around around Michael's waist and tugging him toward the door. "Yeah. Let's go."

They walk like that the whole way back to the Underground. Curiously enough, Michael notices, the ache in his chest is now gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how I imagine the nicer parts of the Underground to be.  
> http://www.travelettes.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/02-City-Hall-Station-600x392.jpg   
> I'm going to do the next chapter from Aaron's point of view(!).   
> This chapter title is from The Static Age.   
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0jkwAnzHKg


	11. There's No Place Like Home (When You've Got No Place To Go)

Aaron watches Ryan and Michael walk slowly back into the station together from the window in his room at the very start of the Underground, Ryan's arm wrapped around Michael as he guides them back toward the passageway to their rooms. He can see everyone that comes in and out of the Underground from his room near the entrance. Of course, he already knows that Ryan just saved Michael from, well, death. Aaron knows everything that happens in the Underground.

He sees Ryan whisper something in Michael's ear, and Michael throws his head back, laughing. Aaron notices how Ryan watches him closely, pleased that he made Michael happy. 

Aaron smiles to himself, shaking his head. Those two. Right in front of each other, and...

If only they knew. 

Aaron closes his eyes, tired from the heavy work and planning of the day, and the memories come suddenly back.

 

_Ten years ago_

"Aaron, go watch the entrance. We don't know what could come barging in there." Jason ordered from his desk, shuffling through some strategy papers and waving a hand toward the opening to the tunnel.

Aaron rolled his eyes. Jason was only twenty-one, just two years older than him, but he always acted like he was the big boss. He'd get used to it, though.

"Fine." He walked lazily out of the office, headed for the entrance to the Underground.

The first month since the forming of the resistance had been hellish. He and Jason carefully making sure that not a trace of them was visible aboveground, while at the same time trying to organize more than a hundred rebels and citizens of Detroit who needed shelter. Always looking over their shoulders to make sure that the Revival wasn't there, waiting for them to slip up and give themselves away.

Aaron kept watch at the entrance, the only one in the station. Mother was so empty then, not yet filled with the rebels to come, of which there would be so many more. He yawned, picking at his split nails and trying to think of anything but the cyborgs gradually taking over the city he used to call home.

He suddenly heard a muffled noise from the stairs, but it must have just been his mind playing tricks on him, because when he looked over, no one was there. He went up to the barred entrance and checked around for any signs of intruders, but there was nothing to be found.

Sighing, Aaron went back to the bench, rubbing the heels of his palms over his face. He sat down, and convinced himself that all he needed was a little rest. Then he'd be back to normal in no time.

But another noise came from the direction of the stairs, and this time, it was too clear to just be a figment of his imagination.

Aaron stood immediately, pulling the gun slung across his back around to hold it steadily in front of him as he advanced toward the gates.

Literally out of nowhere, two small boys appeared in front of him.

They must have wiggled through the bars of the entrance, their clothes streaked with rust and tattered at the edges. Aaron estimated that they were maybe seven or eight years old, as skinny as he was at that age.

One had tan skin and curls just darker than the color of it, a very light brown. His icy blue eyes zeroed in on Aaron, focusing intensely on the gun in his hand. He squinted, mouth forming a scowl when he realized that he had to look a long way up to see the face of this other man.

Aaron was a little surprised, but let his eyes wander to the other boy. He was almost slumped in the curly-haired one's arms, and he looked weak, his small frame too limp to be healthy. His dark brown hair, the same color as his large eyes, made his white skin look deathly pale in the sallow lighting of the station. Aaron knew right away that he needed help, and fast.

"Um…" Aaron said, taken aback at the audacity with which the boys had just walked straight into the Underground, and because he didn't even see them there in the first place. "Do you, uh, need anything?"

The curly-haired one smiled innocently at him, and reached out his hand. Aaron frowned, moving forward, and then froze as the boy reached behind his back, with the distinct sound of shifting firearms.

The boy whipped out a huge M16 from behind him, the strap hanging loosely down to his knees. He maneuvered it into an obviously rehearsed position, pointing threateningly up at Aaron's face. One skinny arm wrapped around the other boy, holding him up.

"Get back! And quick!" He commanded, shaking the gun at Aaron, who put his hands up in an attempt to calm him down. The kid probably had no clue how to use the gun, but he didn't want to make any sudden movements that could yield…unpleasant results.

"Hey, whoa there, buddy…" Aaron said in what he hoped was a convincing tone, but the boy herded him backward until his knees were pressed against the bench.

"Hands on your head!" The boy snarled, and Aaron raised his eyebrows. This was going a little too far. 

"Do you want to show me how you're going to shoot with that?" He moved a couple inches forward, and immediately had the rifle's barrel pressed against his stomach.

"Shut up!" The boy shouted up at him, eyes narrowing. There was an intensity in them that Aaron recognized. "I sure as hell will if you don't stay away!"

Aaron raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How do you know if it's loaded or not?" Judging on how easily the boy was holding it up, Aaron bet that it didn't even have a single bullet in it.

"Shut up, poop face! Do you want me to shoot? Because I will!" The boy yelled, starting to look a little flustered.

"Go ahead, shoot me." Aaron said, leaning back and crossing his arms, slightly amused. "Go. I dare you. No, I double-dog dare you, how about that."

"Fine! You asked for it!" 

There was a hard click as the boy pulled the trigger, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and then silence.

Aaron couldn't help but clap sarcastically as the boy looked sheepishly down, but there was still anger in his eyes. More frustration at this point, though.

"Looks like that didn't work, did it?"

"I… I was just playing around. That wasn't the real thing!"

Aaron rolled his eyes, feeling lame but triumphant. "Oh, I'm sure. Listen, kid…" He got down on his knees, making the boy look in his face. "You'd better tell me what you want, and now. Before you poke your eye out with your toy."

The boy glared defiantly into his eyes for a few moments, and Aaron just stared back.

Then the dark-haired boy, who had been silent the whole time, let out a weak, rasping cough, sliding down onto the floor. It was as if all the hardness and intensity in the other boy went away. He tried to catch his friend, but it wasn't any use, and they just fell to the ground together. Aaron felt something soften in him.

"Michael!" The boy said, clearly panicking, and pulled the dark-haired boy's head into his lap. Aaron assumed that the sick one was Michael.

"Does he need help?" Aaron asked quietly, kneeling slowly on the floor of the station on front of the two of them.

The boy looked up at him, staring for a few seconds, then, to Aaron's surprise, burst into tears.

"Hey! Whoa!" Aaron whipped his head around to check that no one was there. This could get awkward if they were caught like this, especially if Jason decided to come and see how he was doing. "What's wrong?!" He whispered as loudly as he dared.

"Michael…" The boy sobbed, burying his small face into Michael's neck. "He's so sick…and I t- tried giving him medicine that I found, but that just made him worse…" He hiccuped, pulling away to run a hand through Michael's hair. Aaron saw that he had assumed the role of the protector, that he was the one who wanted to be a man before he even knew what to do. "Please help him…" The boy let out a frantic wail as Michael coughed again, clutching him to his chest. Michael's limp arms dragged on the floor. "I don't want him to die…"

Aaron felt ridiculously like a mother at the moment, but he reached forward and rubbed a hand on the boy's back, trying as best as he could to be soothing. "Don't worry. I'm sure we have something."

The boy looked up, tears streaked on his dirty cheeks, but he smiled a toothy grin that Aaron knew he would definitely be seeing for a while. He just knew. 

"R- really?" 

Aaron smiled. "Yup. In fact, we'll probably have him fixed up in no time."

The boy sniffled, still hiccuping. "Okay." He got shakily to his feet, and tried to lift Michael up with a hand under his shoulders and another under his knees, grunting when Michael wouldn't budge. Aaron could just tell that boy had seen princes carrying princesses exactly like this in the movies, and he wanted to try it out for himself. The thought made Aaron smile, and he got up, sliding a hand in next to each of the boy's.

"Let me carry him before you break your back."

The boy let Michael go a little reluctantly, but followed with obvious relief as Aaron started walking back toward the main station, Michael propped up on his hip. "Um…I'm sorry I tried to shoot you."

Aaron smiled down at the boy, hitching Michael up a little higher as he swung his legs over the edge of the rail, dropping down to the tracks. The boy followed him eagerly, keeping his eyes on Michael to make sure he didn't get hurt.

"It's good, bro. I'm Aaron, by the way." He held out a hand for the boy to shake, and the boy's small fingers wrapped around his in a surprisingly strong grip for someone at least two feet shorter than him. 

"I'm Ryan. And this is Michael." Ryan let go of his hand to pet the side of Michael's leg, like this would help him get better.

"Cool." Aaron said, and Ryan grinned up at him. 

"Cool." Ryan repeated, and it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there was Aaron's pov…  
> This is literally what I see when I think "seven-year-old-Ryan-Lochte," just a bit smaller.  
> http://d3fpcvmc02qh9c.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/6.jpg  
> And curlier hair. Like, afro. Whatever.  
> The title of this chapter is from ¿Viva La Gloria? (Little Girl).  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyKDJrNfGtI


	12. At The End Of The Serenade

"Forward." Cullen says, and the team moves steadily toward the industrial building that is the Highland Park base of the Underground. It's the last one left in Michigan, and Ryan's filled with a sense that this may be it for the Revival, at least until they reach Chicago. That'll be where things start to get really bad.

"Okay." Cullen whispers into his walkie-talkie, communicating with Aaron back at the Underground. "We're almost in." It's around eight o'clock, and it's getting hard to see each other in the darkness.

"Great." Comes a crackle of static that is recognizable as Aaron's voice. "Now, just go and do your thing. Remember to keep Conor safe and the way clear for Michael to get to the control room. Distract them."

"Got it. Thanks, Aaron." Cullen says, and he holds the walkie-talkie out in front of him. "Hold on, the guys want to say thank you." He looks expectantly at them.

"Thanks, Aaron!" They whisper as loudly as possible into the microphone of the walkie-talkie, and Aaron's laugh comes crackling back to them.

"Scram. Go do what you're supposed to be doing. And good luck!"

"Yeah, we'll need it." Ryan mutters to himself as Cullen clicks off-line, motioning them forward to just in front of the base's entrance. They've gotten through the perimeter of guards easily, without even being spotted once. Ryan doesn't get what the big deal is about this base, but he can never be too cautious.

"'Kay, guys, we're almost in. We ready?" Cullen asks under his breath, and they nod. "Michael, Aaron said that the control room is on the third level. Just get as much stuff as you can before we burn the place down."

Michael nods. "Okay. Good luck, guys."

"Yeah." Nathan agrees, then smiles. "Group hug, y'all."

Ryan scoffs, but lets Nathan pull them all in with his long arms. "Nathan, it's a bro huddle. Group hugs are for girls."

Nathan snorts. "I'll give you that one."

 

 

Matt and Ricky take down the guard at the back entrance noiselessly, and they all wait in silence as Nathan taps around the doors.   
"All clear." Nathan whispers, and they start to file in. This time, they're not greeted with a shouting mob of Revival, but with just silence. It's eerie, and Ryan gets the uneasy feeling that they're being watched. 

"Go, Michael." Cullen mutters, looking around him uncomfortably.

Michael's about to climb up into the vent when Ryan stops him, responding to impulse.

"Wait."

Michael looks back at him, and for some stupid reason, Ryan wants to just sit and stare at him for a really long time. At his eyes. Memorize him, even though he's already got him down by heart, just do it again.

"What's up?"

Ryan opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say, but then he just holds out his arms. "C'mere."

Michael smiles and then he's in Ryan's arms, his own going around Ryan's neck. Ryan holds him tight, choosing to ignore the throbbing behind his eyes, closing them.

"Jesus, Ry." He feels Michael's quiet laugh next to his ear, and Ryan doesn't want to move. He squeezes Michael once, jaw tensing.

"Be safe." Ryan murmurs, then lets him go. "Go do your thing."

Michael smiles down at him as he climbs up into the ceiling, and when he disappears, Ryan feels like a part of him is missing.

"What was _that_ all about?" Nathan asks skeptically, leaning against the wall and puckering his lips in Ryan's direction.

"Shut up!" Ryan says, but he's flushed red. Damn Nathan Adrian.

"The fair princess has eloped, called by the spirit of adventure. The gallant prince is left destitute and depressed. Will their unrequited love survive?" Conor sings happily. "Or will his fiancé be- "

Ryan claps a hand over his mouth before he can say another word. "Shut. Up."

Conor and Nathan just cackle together and skip off to join the rest of the team at the end of the corridor.

 

 

They walk in complete silence through the entire first floor, the eerie quiet still ringing around their ears. 

"Is it just me, or…" Conor starts, but is quickly shushed. 

"Don't make a noise. This is really fucking suspicious." Cullen hisses. "They could be anywhere."

Then there's a "What's this?" from Ricky, and a "NO! DON'T STEP-" from Nathan, and then there's the screech of an alarm.

Immediately, red lights flash down at them, blaring their arrival across the entire building. "SHIT." Cullen says, scrambling for the door. "Let's go! Find them!"

There's the clunking of boots on the floor above them, and the clatter of guns being loaded. But there's also a strange sound of metal grinding within the walls, and it gives Ryan a really nervous feeling.

"Nathan," he shouts over the alarms as they dash down the stairs, leading the Revival downward and away from Michael, "What the fuck is that sound in the walls?!"

"What sound?!" Nathan yells. "WAIT! GUYS, STOP!"

The team screeches to a halt in the stairwell, Nathan pressing his ear against the wall. 

"Oh fuck." Nathan mutters, his eyes stretched wide in fear. "Oh, FUCK, we have to get out of here."

"What?!" Cullen shouts, looking hurriedly back toward the doors. "Why?! And what about Michael?!"

"Cullen, there are fucking GUNS IN THE WALLS!" Nathan screams, herding them toward the doors. "We have to get out before all of them- "  
Then there's an explosion of plaster as massive machine guns grind out of hidden compartments in the walls, their barrels swiveling and locking in on their newest targets. It's absolutely terrifying, and Ryan feels his stomach drop as the guns train on the team, their cartridges clicking and loading up.

The last thing Ryan hears before they begin to fire is Cullen's whisper of, "Run."

The rest is all flying bullets that turn into balls of fire as they impact around them, and the deafening noise of so many explosions at once it sounds like one massive bomb. It's as if the factory has turned in on itself, seeking to destroy the intruders who dare to breach its walls. And the Revival are just helping it along.

They struggle to the doors, somehow without dropping dead. Ryan doesn't know how they do it, but he does know that the Revival are waiting for them at the other side. Fortunately, or at least, in the circumstances, they are weak soldiers, and are beaten down easily. They're almost at the other end of the hall, fighting off the Pigs in their path and every step toward the doors releasing another bullet from the barrels of their guns, when Ryan remembers Michael.

He's trapped on the third floor. He doesn't know what's going on.

"Michael." Ryan breathes, and he stops, turning back around. "Michael!"

"Ryan, what the fuck are you doing?!" Matt shouts, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back with him. "We have to get out!"  
"NO!" Ryan yells, but Matt won't let go of him, he won't fucking let go of him, and he has to get to Michael, "I have to get Michael! He's on the third floor!" He suddenly has a vision of Michael, being shot at by machines and as helpless as he was in the market the day before, and he struggles harder against Matt. "LET ME GO!"

"Ryan, we can't get him now! We're trapped! There's no way!" Matt roars, flinging Ryan toward the doors, where another rough pair of hands grab him and start shoving him through.

"NO! MICHAEL! NO!" Ryan screams, and he's fighting so hard, but no one's paying attention, just shoving him back through the doors. "NO!"

Then there's an explosion in the hallway, undoubtedly from a grenade, and Matt and Ricky come barreling through the door, taking Ryan with them.

They land in a heap in the dust outside the factory, Ryan kicking and yelling for Michael above the other explosions as his team drags him away from the factory, away from his best friend. 

"MICHAEL! NO!"

"Ryan, we can't get him now! He has to hang on until the shooting stops!" Cullen pants. "We have to circle back around!"

"NO!"

"RYAN!" Nathan shouts, dropping his arm and hooking his hands around Ryan's shoulders, turning Ryan to face him. "We're not going to let him die! Do you understand?! We are not going to fucking let Michael die!"

Ryan just goes limp, detangling himself and getting shakily to his feet. They're about three hundred feet away from the factory now, and he feels like something is dead inside him. "We have to go back. Now." He croaks. It's like there's not enough air around him, and his chest is slowly caving in on itself to compensate for the lack of oxygen.

Cullen rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes, then raises his head and looks over the factory. It's gotten relatively quiet, only a few explosions still echoing. "Okay." He puts a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "We'll go back, we'll go and get him out of there. We'll get him back."

Ryan nods, breathing hard, and doesn't even react as Conor puts an arm around him. "Don't worry."

Ryan can only hope.

 

 

They wait for another ten minutes, then creep back toward the factory in silence. Cullen planned for them to climb up the roof and see where Michael is, then reassess what they'll do next.

"Nathan, see if you can get us any more informations on the computer system inside the factory." Cullen shudders. "And whatever those fucking horrible gun things were."

Nathan nods as they start their climb up the rusty ladder rungs leading to the roof. "Got it."

"Okay." Cullen brings them together once they're all on the roof, boots not making a sound against the cheap metal. "We don't know where Michael is. But he's gotta be underneath us somewhere. So, I think we should split up and look until we find him."  
They nod, Ryan already looking around himself. 

"Nathan, I want you and Ryan together. Matt, go with Conor. Ricky, come with me."

They split up around the huge factory, moving silently across the flat top. Ryan and Nathan go to the furthest end, and settle on their stomachs on the surface. 

"The closest window is to our bottom right." Nathan whispers, and Ryan nods, giving him the thumbs-up. 

Nathan hesitates a moment, then clasps a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Ryan, I'm really sorry that we…we didn't go back in the first place. But there was…"

Ryan looks away. "It's fine. I just hope he's okay- "

Then Cullen's shout echoes across the roof, and Ryan and Nathan's heads jerk up to see him lying across the roof, Ricky bending over him.

"Oh my god." Nathan murmurs, hurrying over, Ryan following him.

"What happened?!" Ryan whispers, hand covering his mouth as he sees Cullen's arm. It's twisted at an awkward angle, and his face is contorted in pain.

"He tripped…" Ricky looks like he's ready to break down. "And his sleeve caught on some stupid fucking piece of machinery, and his shoulder…" He looks up at Nathan pleadingly. "I think he dislocated it. Can you fix it?"

Nathan grimaces, examining Cullen's twisted shoulder. "I can. But it's not going to feel... great."

"Just do it." Cullen grits, sitting up with a groan. "Just do it."

Ryan and Ricky turn away as they hear the pop of Cullen's shoulder being maneuvered back into its socket, and his shouting and cursing in pain. When they turn back around, he's moving stiffly, and his right arm is still at a slightly awkward angle.

Well, that's just fucking great, Ryan thinks. Our sharpshooter, with a dislocated shoulder. Just fucking great.

"Can you move it?" He asks quietly, watching Cullen wince as he stands.

"Not really." Cullen looks up, eyes watering. "I don't even know if I can handle a gun."

Ryan grimaces. "Um…well, that sucks, but we have to keep looking for Michael."

Cullen nods, and it looks like he's about to apologize or something, but there's a noise from the far side of the of the roof where Conor and Matt are.

"Oh, lord." Nathan mutters. "What happened now?"

But there's a coil of apprehension in Ryan's stomach, and he walks over to where they are. "What's going on?"

Conor makes a small sound, almost a whine. "Ryan…" He looks up at Ryan, motioning for him to come to the makeshift skylight they're standing by. "We found him."

Ryan feels his heartbeat speed up, and he drops to his knees, shuffling over to the hole in the roof. Its rusty and only about two feet across. "Is he under- "

"Ryan." Matt says softly, and there's something that resembles horror in his eyes when Ryan looks into them. "I don't know if you want to see him."

Ryan feels like his brain is fuzzing over, and he pushes past Matt roughly. "What? Why the hell not?! We have to get him out!" He flattens onto his stomach, crawling closer to the hole.

"Ryan…" Conor tries, but Ryan shoves him out of the way just before a scream cuts through the cold night air.

Ryan freezes and jerks his head up, but it's almost as if the noise came from…directly below him.

"What the…" He mutters under his breath. There was something familiar about it. "Let me through."

Conor looks at Matt, and Matt looks at Ryan. "Um…just…"

Ryan finally can't stand this anymore, and moves his face just past the edge of the skylight, looking over the edge.

He immediately wishes that he hadn't.

Underneath them is a huge room, the walls covered with beeping machinery and computer monitors. At its door at the far end, a huge Reviver stands guard.

Ryan directly below him, and almost tips over the edge as he sees Michael.

"Oh my god." He whispers.

Michael is kneeling on the floor, hooked up by his bound wrists and ankles to one of the machines. On its huge screen is a heat-sensored scan of his heartbeat and skin temperatures, pulsing and flickering between green and red. A Reviver with the badge of a captain is circling him slowly, holding something in its hand. 

The back of Michael's suit is unzipped to the base of his spine, falling off of his shaking shoulders, and Ryan feels his breath catch as his eyes settle on angry red slashes on Michael's back.

"Oh god." He mutters, now realizing through the haze in head what the Reviver has in its hand. It's a rubber cable, a knob of sharp metal attached at the end. Nathan puts a hand on his back, his eyes wide with horror.

Suddenly the Reviver yanks Michael up on his feet, much bigger than he is. Ryan sees Michael's face, and there's a chilling mixture of terror and…something else on it, that makes Ryan want to jump down and put a bullet through the Reviver's skull. But he can't. There's more of them on the walls, watching the scene in front of them unfold, and they have at least twice as many armed guards as his team. 

"I'm going to ask you one more time, boy." The Reviver suddenly hisses in Michael's face, one huge hand closing on his neck. Michael's eyes widen. "Where is the Underground?"

Michael's silent, and Ryan can't tell if it's out of pure fear or determination not to give them away. The Reviver gives him an angry shake, and finally Michael spits out a response.

"I'm never going to fucking tell you, you bastard."

Then there's a sickening crack and a roar from the Reviver, and Nathan's arms wrap around Ryan, preventing him from falling forward through the small hole. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, unable to take it, only to have them fly open again as another scream comes from below him, higher and full of pain. The Reviver brings the whip down on Michael's bare back, another glaring red wound appearing on his pale skin. Michael cries out, head snapping down and his tied hands squeezing the rope tightly. 

"You insolent little…" A maniacal glint flashes in the Reviver's grey eyes, and it advances on Michael, looming over him. "You're going to regret that!"

Ryan feels like he's going to throw up. It's like he can feel the whip on his back along with Michael, feel every shred of pain coursing through his body as the cable cracks down again. But his body has somehow shut down, freezing him in place and not allowing him to look away, to get away from it all.

There's a loud wail from the room, and a sick laugh from the Revival. Ryan's eyes snap down, and he almost can't feel the tear sliding down his cheek as he sees the Reviver twisting Michael's arms painfully behind his back, pressing him into a wall.

"Where is it?! Where is it?!"

Michael sobs, screaming in pain as the Reviver twists harder. "I'm…" He chokes out, but it's weak. Getting weaker. "I'm never telling you- "

"Again?!" The Reviver shouts, smiling sadistically. "Are you sure about that?!"

Ryan has tears coursing down his face now, and he gasps out a breath, feeling his limbs give out. Matt catches him before he can tumble through the opening, and when Ryan looks into his face, he looks shaken. 

"Ryan, get away from there. Don't look."

"No…" Ryan rasps, his voice raw, and pushes at Matt. He feels fuzzy and disoriented, like the rooftop is too bright, even though it's pitch dark. "No, I have to go get him…No…"

"Ryan, no." Nathan whispers, putting an arm around his shoulders. "It's too dangerous. And when we were in there…I… I saw what happened with the computers." He looks pained, but takes a deep breath and tells Ryan the brutal truth. 

"They took DNA readings on us. With these…these cameras in the walls. If the Revivers don't get us, the machine guns will."

There's a scream from the room, and Nathan winces, holding Ryan closer to him. Conor and Ricky rub his back, and Matt and Cullen just watch somberly. Ryan knows that he isn't the only one suffering, but he can't stop the tears from sliding down his face.

"What…what…" He suddenly has a horrible thought. "How are we even supposed to get him out…"

Cullen comes up and puts his good arm on top of Nathan's. "I don't know if you saw, but there was a red button attached to one of the machines." He looks up at Nathan. "And that…"

Nathan nods grimly. "Is a detonator. If we could somehow shoot it directly…" He glances back at the hole in the roof, grimacing. "It would destroy the entire computer system, but not only that. It would explode the entire factory."

Ryan looks around him helplessly, hands almost coming up to cover his ears as sobbing echoes up from below him. "How…"

"What I'm saying…is that we still have a chance of getting Michael out of there. But it's going to be much harder than anything we've ever done before. They have so many guards, and there's no telling what explosions that button's going to set off, and where they'll be."

Cullen takes a deep breath, wincing as his shoulder shifts. "Ryan, I can't handle a gun. You'd lose one member of the team, and you would have to shoot, maybe from…twenty or thirty feet. We couldn't get close enough to just push the thing." He tightens his arm around Ryan, who has started shaking slightly. "Then we'd somehow have to fight our way out of there, with Michael, before…" He grimaces. "Before the whole place goes up."

Ryan feels his stomach twist, which just makes the salty droplets leak out of his eyes faster. It's almost like he's in shock, but…worse. He can't feel himself crying, can't process it at the moment. The only thing he knows is that Michael's down there, and he will do anything to get him out. Because Michael is just as much a part of him as Ryan is of himself. 

"Okay." He says dazedly, and Nathan glances over at the rest of the team. "Okay." The screams from Michael have slowly been getting quieter and quieter.

"Ryan, are you in shock?" Nathan asks tentatively, wincing as a muffled yell of pain carries through the window.

"No." Ryan looks straight into his eyes, the tears still just running over his face. "No. I am not in shock." He knows what it feels like, and this definitely isn't it.

Matt breathes warm air into his hands, pulling Ryan gently further away from the window. "Ry, I think we're going to have to wait until morning to get him out of there. We can't see a thing."

Then it's like Ryan snaps to consciousness, and he whirls around, looking at Matt in horror. "What the fuck are you talking about?! NO!"

"Ryan…" Matt looks desperately around him. "Ryan, calm- "

"NO!" Ryan shouts, not caring anymore if the Revival hear him. Fuck it, he wants them to hear. Because he's coming for them, even if no one else will. "Fuck that! We're going right this fucking moment!" He looks around at the rest of his team in rage. "How can you just stand there? How can you? I…" He grits his teeth, feeling another tear slip out of the corner of his eyes. "My fucking best friend is down there, and he'll be fucking dead by morning! Fuck that! He's already DYING!"

Ryan points to the window, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears rolling out of them as the buzz of electricity sounds. It's followed by Michael's scream of agony, and Ryan gasps, having to use every shred of his being not to blast through the roof and get Michael out of there by himself. "Do you even hear that?! They're fucking TORTURING HIM, and you expect me to just stand and WAIT?!" He screams, the rage welling up inside him. "FUCK ALL OF YOU! HOW COULD YOU EXPECT THAT?! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO GET DOWN THERE AND FIGHT LIKE REAL FUCKING MEN, BECAUSE I SURE AS FUCK AM!"

Matt glances helplessly at Cullen, who in turns looks Ryan in the eyes. Ryan feels something pass between them as he holds Cullen's gaze, filled with adrenaline and rage and pure energy.

"Ryan, are you ready?" Cullen asks quietly. Ryan nods, and Cullen's jaw clenches.

"Okay. Let's just fucking go. Ryan, please, just give us half an hour. Just half an hour."

Ryan just nods again, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Oh god." Suddenly the tears are back, and he fights to keep them down. "Michael." He whispers, the sudden fact that his best friend is being tortured, and he's just been watching that entire time, hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Michael."

And just saying his name, the name of the boy who's been by his side for fifteen years, the boy he watched grow up and grew up with, the boy who's been the other half of him for so long, brings back the feeling in Ryan that's been there for a while now. 

And he gets it. 

He gets what it is, finally. What it's been.

Ryan walks over and sits heavily on the the edge of the roof, looking out at the stars over the abandoned city. For some reason, they look brighter tonight than they usually are. But it's not a lost wondering as to why they're like that now. Because Ryan knows why. 

Ryan watches his breath puff up in clouds and imagines reaching up and touching them, like he and Michael used to do when they were children and lying on their backs on Ryan's lawn. He closes his eyes, breathing in the cold air and letting its soft breeze sweep over him. With it, he swears he can hear Michael's voice somewhere, carried along faintly. It feels like it was only yesterday that they were lying on their backs on the wet grass, pointing up at the night sky.

_"And that's Orion's belt!"_ Michael says cheerfully, and Ryan looks next to him to see a seven year old Michael grinning and staring upward, the stars reflected in his eyes. Ryan glances back up at his own hand, and it's shrunk in size. When he speaks, his voice is an octave higher.

_"Really? Well, that's Cassiopeia! Ha, I know a bigger word than you."_ Michael giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

They lie in silence for a while, then Michael lets out a sigh.

_"Ryan."_ There's something in Michael's voice that makes Ryan turn his head, and Michael looks at him with a somber expression. _"Do you see that really bright, big one over there?"_

Ryan nods, staring into its bright, bluish light. _"Yeah."_

_"That's Polaris."_ Michael says quietly, drifting his hand over to lace his small fingers with Ryan's. But they're suddenly not small anymore, and Ryan looks over to see the current Michael. He can still see the little boy that Michael once was, his eyes mirroring the stars as clearly as they always have. _"My mom told me that if you follow it, no matter where you are, it'll lead you back home."_

Ryan blinks, staring up at the star. _"Cool."_ He whispers, squeezing Michael's hand tight. He never wants to let it go.   
_"We should try that sometime."_

_"We should."_

 

 

"Ryan."

Ryan looks up to see Cullen offering him his hand. "You ready?"

Ryan nods, getting slowly to his feet. "Yeah, just give me…give me a minute."

"Okay."

Ryan looks up, and sure enough, Polaris shines above him, just as it did ten years before. Ryan realizes that it's always been there for him, and a feeling of security spreads through him.

He stares at it for a little, oddly entranced, then drops his gaze back down to the silent roof. 

And he knows now what he has to do, what has to be done. He's filled with a sort of strength that he knows will get him through the night, will get him through anything as long as Michael's safe.

"Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologize for the torture scene. I'm really sorry if I offended anyone, but I did put a "Graphic Depictions of Violence" as a warning just in case. But I don't want to seriously scar any of you, so…really sorry if that was too nasty. Ugh.
> 
> Chapter title is from Peacemaker. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rs04Yy0JOjU
> 
> 'Til the next one! Thank you so much for reading, everyone! Comments are appreciated! :D


	13. Heroes and Cons

Pain.

That's all Michael can feel.

It consumes his entire body relentlessly, spreading through his veins, his skin, lighting his blood on fire.

But he's still alive. At least, to the extent of his knowledge.

The Reviver is muttering to itself in the corner, having given up on him for a while. Michael hears the crackle of electrical wires and a buzz, then a massive computer screen booting to life.

He curls into himself on the cold floor, biting back a scream as the whip lashes on his back stretch, reopening their wounds. A small whimper escapes instead, and he's sure that the Reviver hears it. It turns around, a knife glinting in its hand.

"Regretting being so uncooperative now, are we?" It says, kneeling in front of him. It fists a hand in his hair and yanks his head up, and Michael squeezes his eyes shut against the tears leaking out of them.

"Fuck off." Michael grits, but then the Revival forces him onto his feet and his spine stretches painfully again. "You…" He gasps as the Reviver presses the knife to the crook of his arm and starts pressing the serrated blade in. "You're never going to fucking get it out of me."

A cruel glint arises in the Reviver's eyes, and it suddenly moves down and slashes near his wrist. The stinging pain is unbearable, and Michael almost passes out when he looks down and sees the lower half of his arm covered in red. "Oh? Then you'll be here for a while." It cuts at his other wrist three quick times, just missing the vein, and Michael fights to stay conscious. The Reviver drops him back down to the floor, pressing one boot onto the cuts before lumbering back to the computers.

Michael knows hazily that he may be about to die, and closes his eyes tight, ignoring the blood soaking his skin and the floor under him. Somehow, Ryan floats into his mind. Michael realizes that he might never see him again, and it makes another tear drop from his cheek, falling into the blood on the floor.

Ryan.

Michael finds himself praying feverishly that once he's in heaven, or hell, more like it, he'll still be able to see Ryan from wherever he is. Just to see him, make sure that he's safe. Watch over him. But that just makes another tear slip out, and another, and Michael feels his heart slowly ripping in half as it all sinks in that Ryan is probably gone, and he won't come back for him. Why would he? It's a horrible feeling, worse than any amount of the torture he's endured over the night, and Michael finds that he can't move because of the pain it's causing.

"Ryan." He whispers, and Ryan's name is the last thing he can register before a an explosion rips through the hall outside and he's thrown into the wall.

Michael blacks out for a moment, agony tearing through the skin on his bare back, then his eyes snap open as he realizes that the room is on fire, the heat already coursing over his body. Maybe it's his imagination, but his insides are on fire too, and when he looks down, he can see the flames flickering under his skin, burning slowly from the inside. Michael strains against his bonds, but the ropes are metal cables of twisted fibers, and it's impossible to even move an inch.

Then the door of the room busts down, and Michael thinks that he sees Ryan and his team, but he can't be sure, because his vision is clouded with little lights. The head Reviver screams some commands, and the guards immediately advance. But they're quickly shot down before they can even react by…it looks like Ricky and Matt. Michael blearily tries to give some sort of signal that he's against the wall, but the Reviver gets to him first.

"You're coming with me." It hisses, yanking Michael up, making him see lights. It turns back to the guards, who are almost all dead. "Don't let them get to the computer!" It screams at them, casting a look of disgust at Michael before throwing him over its shoulder and making its way slowly toward the doors at the other end of the room, surrounded by its own guards.

"No…" Michael chokes, shuddering as a wave of pain courses through his body. "NO!" He screams, suddenly feeling a rush of energy, and kicks at the Reviver. It grunts, and Michael slams his foot desperately into its abdomen, a spike of pain jolting through his body with the motion. "RYAN! RYAN!"

"Shut the fuck up!" The Reviver reaches back and slaps him hard across the cheekbone, hitting him again and again until Michael can't even feel anything anymore.

But suddenly, the pounding force is gone, and Michael's falling to the ground. He's sure that this is it, he's going to die, but he never even makes contact with the floor. Arms wrap around him, definitely human, and pull him up, somehow not causing any pain. He feels a knife cut at the cables, and they release him.

Michael's immediate response is to try to squirm away, but he's so gone that he can only weakly slap at the arm. "No! RYAN!" He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself. 

"Michael, stop, it's me- " The arms grip under his legs and back, but Michael can't look at the person, can't do anything except feel the pain crashing through him. 

"RYAN!"

"Michael! MICHAEL!"

Michael looks up, tears streaking down his face, and almost loses consciousness right there as he sees that Ryan's above him. He reaches up, not caring about the flames raging around them anymore, because as long as Ryan's there, he'll be safe. 

He knows that.

"Ryan." Michael breathes, feeling over the contours of Ryan's face to make sure that it's really him.

"Hey." Ryan whispers, and Michael feels something wet on his finger. "Hey, Michael."

"You came back." Michael murmurs, reaching his other hand up and trying to just stay awake, but then the stars in his eyes explode and he plunges into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo…this was graphic. Again, I'm sorry. Just remember…the warnings… 
> 
> Um, so the title is from the first section of 21st Century Breakdown(the three are Heroes and Cons, Charlatans and Saints, and Horseshoes and Handgrenades.)
> 
> Onwards!


	14. My Beating Heart Belongs To You

After the destruction, Ryan carried Michael all the way back to the Underground by himself. He wouldn't let anyone else touch him.

When they finally arrived, Ricky was on Matt's back, unconscious. He was shot by a Reviver straight in the shoulder and couldn't even walk a step without falling. Michael was passed out and bleeding all over Ryan's clothes, anything he touched staining red, despite Nathan's emergency bandaging and repairs. Aaron took one look and told them to get the fuck to the medical station right that second.

As Michael and Ricky were being worked on and fixed up, Aaron took Ryan aside. 

"Ryan, what happened to him?"

Ryan couldn't bring himself to say it, because if he did, he felt like he had to kill himself for letting it go on that long.

Aaron must have seen something in his face, because he just gave Ryan a hug and patted his shoulder.

"You can wait for him if you want."

The rest of the team gradually filed out, grim expressions on their faces. Ricky had been shot, Nathan had been grazed by a bullet, and Michael was barely hanging onto life. They were all feeling a little depressed, and definitely not looking forward to the next raid. They couldn't even think about that at the moment.

Ryan waited for an hour, then the medics said that he should take Michael wherever he needed to go. Not thinking of doing anything else, Ryan walked in, picked Michael straight up off the mattress, and took him back to his own room.  
So there they are, Michael's steady breathing almost lulling Ryan to sleep. 

Ryan sits at the edge of the bed and just looks at Michael, for some reason finding him incredibly fascinating at the moment. His eyes wander over the dark bruise on Michael's cheekbone, and he feels something clench in his gut. Shakily, Ryan pulls down the sheets covering Michael's torso, not having really looked at the wounds before now.

"Oh god." He whispers to himself.

Black and blue bruises cover Michael's ribs, which rise and fall slowly. Ryan doesn't dare look at his back, because if he did, he knows he would throw up on the spot. But there are red marks stretching around on the sides of his body. 

Ryan turns Michael's wrist over, and brings a hand to his mouth in shock.

The cuts are deep and dark red, the gauze over them not quite hiding the ends. 

To Ryan, it's like a violation, a rape of Michael's body. An ugly red splash of paint across a masterpiece. It makes Ryan want to cry.

So he does.

Ryan feels the tear roll down his face as he moves his hand down to clasp it with Michael's own limp one, squeezing it tightly. He lets out a small sob, and wipes at his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice breaking, looking up at Michael's deceptively peaceful face, almost perfect except for his bruised cheek. Ryan's overcome with the weight of what has just happened, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to the bruise.

"I'm so sorry." Ryan repeats shakily, losing control of himself. "Why…why did…why did it have to be you?" He asks, feeling his throat contract as his fingers brush over the gauze. "You didn't…you didn't do anything wrong…why did they…" He suddenly sobs, burying his face in Michael's neck. The metallic taint of blood meets Ryan's nose, and he pulls away, one thumb stroking gently over Michael's jaw.

"It should have been me. Michael, I'm so screwed up, I'm so fucking wrong, why didn't they do that to me…" He whispers, his eyes glancing over the marks on Michael's torso. "I mean, there's nothing they could do that would fuck me up even more than I already am, but you…" He lets out another sob, feeling a fresh wave of tears well up inside him. "You have so much, Michael, you're fucking beautiful, and they just…" Ryan squeezes his eyes shut, chest heaving. "They don't even think of how good you are, and how…how much love you give, and I…" Ryan draws in a shaky breath, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "I can't stand just seeing you like this, and it's all my fucking fault…"

He stops, his shoulders shuddering with the quiet sobs still racking his body. "I just can't stand it."

Ryan wants so badly for Michael to just please wake up and be fine, that none of this ever happened. Because those cuts may heal, but the scars will always be there. And Ryan knows that every time he sees them, he's going to be reminded of all the times he wasn't quite fast enough, didn't get there in time, just wasn't there. The times he left Michael behind. And that just sets him off again.

"You…you would never leave me by myself, getting tortured to fucking death…" Ryan whispers, taking Michael's hand in his again. "But I just…I left you there, and you couldn't defend yourself, and here I am like the coward I've always been, talking to you while you're asleep…" Ryan swallows shakily, his shoulders shuddering. "And you give and give, Michael, and I never give anything back to you, and…" He closes his eyes, starting to cry again, and rubs his thumb over the back of Michael's hand, bringing it to his lips. "Please forgive me."

Ryan feels tears escape from his eyes and tries to stop them, but he just can't. "I'm so sorry." He whispers, kissing over Michael's palm and to the cuts on his wrist, lips softly brushing the edges of the gauze. "I'm so sorry."

Ryan places Michael's hand gently back down on the sheets and sighs, wiping the last tears from his cheeks. He's so tired. He feels so vulnerable at the moment, not having cried like this for a human being since his mother died. 

"Michael." He says, just to say Michael's name. Just because he needs to right now.

Ryan gets up and pulls a chair to the edge of the bed, sitting heavily down in it.

"I'm…I'm gonna go to sleep now." He tells Michael, already feeling his eyes start to close. "'Night."

Ryan sighs, closing his eyes and letting himself relax as much as he can.

"I'll be right here if you need me."

Michael doesn't wake up until the evening of the next day.

When a nurse comes in to change his bandages, Ryan leaves the room and tries to go and talk with the team. Ricky's awake and showing signs of recovery, Nathan tells them, and the injuries aren't as bad as they could be. He was lucky that it didn't puncture a lung. Nathan himself has a bandage running around his waist, but he's not critically hurt.

Ryan tries to nod along and be happy, but he can't. Not when Michael is still unconscious on his bed, not even having moved for a solid twenty-four hours.

"Ryan." Cullen says quietly. "How's Michael doing?"

It takes Ryan a while to answer. "He's…alright, I guess. He hasn't woken up yet."

Cullen hesitates, then puts a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Ryan, I'm sorry that we didn't get to him earlier. I really feel like an asshole for making us wait, but…"

Ryan looks up at him. He knows that Cullen only wants what's best for the team, and to attack right away would have been a possibly condemning move. "I know. It's fine. At least we have him back."

Cullen nods, looking relieved. "Okay."

Ryan walks back down the corridor, sighing. He's glad that no one witnessed his meltdown the night before, except if Michael was like, pretending to be asleep or something, because then that would be…awkward. Really awkward.

Ryan hovers his hand over the curtain to his room, then just steels himself and draws it aside. He doesn't expect Michael to be awake.

He walks quietly in, draping his jacket over the back of the chair. But when Ryan looks down, he sees a pair of brown eyes staring up at him.

"Whoa- " Ryan takes a step back, heart pounding, but Michael definitely is awake.

Michael blinks once, then draws in a shaky breath and smiles up at Ryan.

"Hey, Ry."

He just smiles.

And then Ryan literally cannot control himself, and he descends on Michael, wrapping his arms around Michael's shoulders and hugging him tightly, clenching his jaw as hard as possible, because he's afraid that he might start crying. Again. 

"Hey, ow." Michael murmurs, still in a haze, wincing slightly as he shifts in Ryan's arms. "Pull me up, at least."

Ryan pulls away and stares at Michael, eyes traveling over and over his face. Michael looks exhausted. His cheekbones are dark and drawn, skin not as bright as it usually is. But his eyes still haven't lost their brown luster when Ryan looks into them.

It's incredible, Ryan thinks, how much Michael can endure, but still not lose the life inside him. Ryan lets out a sigh of relief, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Michael's hair. 

He's awake.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He helps prop Michael up as gently as he can into a sitting position. Ryan's afraid Michael's bones are going to snap in half any moment, and he's too clumsy to handle him carefully enough. "That better?" 

"Mm-hm." Michael says, but Ryan can tell he's still in pain. He's suddenly filled with something like…anger.

"No, it's not." Ryan mutters, and Michael looks confused.

"What?"

"Just…never mind." Ryan flushes, realizing that it's anger at himself. He forces it to subside. "How long have you been up?"

"Ever since you walked in."

Ryan lets himself run a thumb over Michael's cheek, taking his jaw gently in his hand. He's surprised to see Michael's eyes flutter closed again, and he smiles to himself. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Michael smiles. "You did." He opens his eyes and Ryan draws his hand away. "No, keep it there."

Blushing, Ryan puts his hand back on Michael's face, letting it travel up to his hair. They sit there for a while, Michael studying Ryan closely.

"So…" Michael breaks their silence. "What happened?"

Ryan takes a deep breath. "Well…we burned another base down. The Highland Park one."

"Lovely."

"I know. And we…we got you out of there when you needed it." Ryan's holding back the fact that Ricky and Nathan were hurt in the process, because he knows that Michael hates it when people put themselves in danger for his sake. He looks down, but he can tell that Michael's on to him.

"And…what else happened?" 

Ryan looks back up, but he can't quite meet Michael's eyes. "Nothing."

Michael's suddenly pulling him forward, forcing Ryan to look in his face, but Ryan still keeps his eyes down. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not- "

"Ryan, I know you are- "

"Michael, I know I'm not."

"Ryan." 

Something in Michael's voice makes Ryan look up at him, and something drops in his chest when it looks like Michael's on the verge of tears. "Someone got hurt, didn't he?"

Ryan takes Michael's hand, running his thumb over the back of it. Michael just looks at him pleadingly. "Ry, what happened?"

"Ricky…" Ryan looks down. "Ricky got shot in the shoulder. Nathan was grazed in his side. But they're okay, they're just…" He trails off when a small noise comes from the bed.

Ryan looks up to see a tear making its way down Michael's bruised cheek, and his protective instincts kick in. "Hey, whoa. Michael." Ryan slides in next to him, putting his arms around Michael's shoulders, which have started shaking. "What's wrong?" But he already knows.

Michael's nose scrunches up, like it always does when he's trying not to cry. "It's all my fault, isn't it?"

Ryan holds him as tightly as he dares, his own heart starting to beat faster. "No, Michael… don't think like that. Okay? It being your fault is the last- "

"Stop lying!" Michael suddenly sobs, more tears coursing down his cheeks, and Ryan backs off, a little shocked. "It is my fucking fault, because I was too fucking weak to fight those Pigs off! Just…you were right…"

Ryan's breath picks up. "What? When did I say that?"

"Just…stop." Michael's shoulders shudder, and Ryan can tell that the motion is painful. "You said I was a fucking pussy, and here's the proof. Ryan…" Michael's demeanor suddenly changes, and he leans into Ryan, really crying now. "I couldn't take care of myself, and the consequence is that…" He lets out a small sob. "People get hurt because of me and my fucking weakness, and I'm so fucking sorry, dammit-"

Ryan is, frankly, shocked. "Excuse me? Why are you apologizing, Michael, you have nothing to fucking apologize- "

"Shut up! Look at you..." One of Michael's hands moves up Ryan's chest and to the cut on his cheek, touching it gently. It's like Michael's fingers leave a trail of heat, and Ryan feels his heartbeat speed up. Michael turns Ryan's face toward himself with his hand, eyes concerned. "This is because of me."

Ryan does his best to stay calm and keep breathing, because Michael's touching his _face_ , holy lord. "Michael…" He asks quietly. "Have you even seen yourself?"

Michael looks up at him, sniffling. "Wh…what?"

Ryan has to prevent his jaw from unhinging. "Your body is literally wrecked. Your back isn't going to heal for another two weeks, at least. You have cuts all over your wrists. And you're worrying about everyone else?"

Michael looks confused. "But they were shot. I'm going to be fine."

Ryan frowns. "You don't know that."

Michael smiles then, tears still coming down his face. He takes Ryan's hand in his and turns it over, tracing a finger across the lines in his palm. 

Ryan watches Michael, and is reminded of that ache inside him that still has to be dealt with. At first, he considered just forgetting about it completely. But now, with Michael safe, and right in front of him, it looks like there's a new possibility. Not just a hope.

"You know why I do?"

"What?"

"…Know that I'll be fine."

Ryan closes his fingers over Michael's and feeling the effect it has on his heart. "Why?"

"Because you're here."

Ryan draws in a breath that rattles, trying to gain control over himself. Because Michael has literally just made his heart stutter to a halt in his chest.

"Wh- wh- "

Michael laughs softly. "As long as you're here, I'm safe."

Ryan tries to calm his heart, closing his eyes tight. "And…and when did you decide this?"

He feels Michael leaning in, the sheets falling away from him as he moves in front of Ryan. Ryan opens his eyes and sees Michael's smile. "You remember when we were seven, and we hid in that manhole? The day of the bombing?"

Ryan swallows, chest visibly moving his shirt as his heart pounds. Michael really does remember. He feels like his head is going to explode when Michael runs the back of his hand over his cheek. "Y- yeah."

"Well…" Michael tucks Ryan's hair behind his ear. "You promised me that you'd always be there for me. And…" He smiles up at Ryan. "You've kept that promise. That's why."

Ryan's eyes open, and he sees Michael in front of him, with chapped, swollen lips and a bruised cheekbone and dirty, spiky hair, looking absolutely beautiful. 

And he just goes for it.

Ryan leans forward, and, raising a hand to Michael's cheek, presses their lips together.

Michael doesn't exactly resist, just makes a small noise of surprise, and Ryan can't stop now, the feelings are too much to absorb. so he just holds Michael close and kisses him harder. Eventually, Michael's eyelids slide closed and he brings his arms around Ryan's neck, pulling him closer. Ryan lets his eyes shut, slipping his tongue into Michael's mouth and hearing him make a soft sound. Michael sways, lips parting and his tongue sliding forward to meet Ryan's. Ryan wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, nipping softly along his bottom lip.

They break apart a moment later, panting, and Ryan suddenly feels vulnerable, but in a state of bliss. 

"So…that…" Michael breathes, eyes huge, but Ryan can't stand just watching him like this and he pulls Michael gently forward into his lap, hands sliding up his thighs. Michael laughs softly, and Ryan captures his mouth again to shut him up, kissing at his jaw. Michael lets out a noise of surprised pleasure.

Michael finally pulls back and breathlessly runs a hand over Ryan's cheek.

"Oh my god."

Ryan closes his eyes, resting his head in the crook of Michael's neck. "Yeah."

"Ryan…" Michael strokes his fingers through Ryan's hair, and Ryan can feel his heart thudding. "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"I…" Ryan pulls back and shrugs. "I don't know. I just…" He drops his head back down to Michael's shoulder. "I know I wanted to."

Michael returns his hand to Ryan's hair. "Well…I wanted to, too. So…that makes two of us."

Ryan grins, still in a bit of a daze at what just occurred between them. "That makes two of us."

Ryan closes his eyes, wondering if now is the right time to say it. He should have rehearsed what he was going to do when Michael woke up. He's still breathing hard, for Christ's sake. And he didn't count on Michael being so…good at it. 

Ryan lets out a soft sigh and tightens his arms around Michael's waist, pulling him closer. He doesn't know what to say, how to approach the topic, how to even…do this thing.

Then he hears Michael draw in a deep breath, and shit.

"Ryan."

"Y…yeah?" Ryan croaks, his voice breaking.

"I…"

"Uh-huh."

"I." Michael finishes, but then he falls silent, and Ryan knows that he has to be the one to do this.

"Michael, listen to me."

He hears Michael's breaths, and tries to count them to calm down.

"I need to tell you something."

Michael's voice shakes slightly. "What?"

"Michael." Ryan squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face into the warmth of Michael's neck, shielding his expression.

"Michael, I love you."

When there's no immediate response, Ryan feels his heart sink in his chest, and he pulls away, not daring to look at Michael. But then a hand comes up and rests on his cheek, and Ryan's face is turned up to Michael's. 

Ryan could live just in this moment, with nothing else, if he had to. Because Michael's face alone, on it a mixture of wonder, happiness, and…something else. Something that Ryan knows he's feeling right now, that's overwhelming him.

Michael draws in another shaky breath, a smile at the corners of his mouth. "As a friend…or as…"

Ryan runs a hand up and down Michael's side, looking down. "As both."

Then Michael's lips are pressed gently to his, and Ryan's eyes slide closed. "I love you too, Ryan." Michael murmurs against his mouth, and in his voice, Ryan can hear the fifteen years of them being by each other's sides, the fifteen years of their friendship evolving into something more.

Ryan's heart feels like it's about to stop beating altogether, and he swallows. He just has to make sure.

"Just as a friend? Or, like…"

He feels Michael smile against his lips.

"As both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL.  
> SO.  
> This was pretty much just fluff-covered fluff with a fluffy filling, but I had to. So, that was **The Chapter.** How'd I do? DX
> 
> Guys, I reeeeally want the Phlochte fandom to stay together. Please, Phlochtenation, can we hold strong? At least until Rio(because they'll clearly be married by then)? I know there's a ton of you talented fanfic writers out there who haven't gotten an ao3 yet! Make one- it take only like two months to come at most. (I'm only going on a promotion rant because the tag has been super sluggish lately, so…)
> 
> But I'm legit not kidding. This pairing needs to stay in my life. 
> 
> The Chapter's title is from Last Night On Earth. I literally cry whenever I hear this song. Actual tears.
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83UgrAzeCBI


	15. With Every Breath That I Am Worth

"Ryan!"

Ryan snaps out of his happy haze to see Danielle Lezak waving at him, a huge bag in one hand. He smiles lazily, lifting a hand, and almost falls off the train platform.

"Dear, be careful!" Danielle cautions, and Ryan decides that he really has to get it together. And stop acting like a giddy moron.

"What can I do for you, Danielle?" Ryan smiles. He's being as nice to everyone as possible today. Normally he'd greet her with a grunt and a "Hi."

"Well, dear, I heard that poor Michael is sick."

Ryan nods, not allowing the idea of an ailing Michael get to him. His mind is currently on the taste of the inside of Michael's mouth, and the way Michael's arms felt wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Yeah. Poor kid got hurt in the raid." Ryan tries to say it casually.

"Oh, dear…" Danielle shakes her head. "You kids had better be careful out there. God forbid any of you should get killed, or worse, captured." 

Ryan feels something chill in his gut, but he just brushes it aside. "I know. Don't worry."

Danielle smiles, patting his cheek. "Can't afford to ruin all this beauty here."

Ryan blushes, surprised. He's never really been called that before.

"Well, thank you."

"Alright. I wanted to ask you if you could give this soup to Michael." Danielle pulls a giant pot out of the bag she was carrying and hands it to Ryan, who almost drops it.

"Oh, of course…" Ryan puffs, heaving the thing up. How did she even. "Special recipe?"

"Fixer-upper. He'll be better in no time." Danielle smiles. "Take good care of that boy, Ryan. He needs you just as much as you need him."

Ryan allows himself to lapse into shocked silence for a second, then remembers that it's okay to respond to something like this.  
"Oh, I will."

"Alright, I'll be off then."

"Oh, Danielle?"

She turns back. "Yes?"

Ryan meets her eyes. "We're going to get Jason, okay? We're going to get him back. Please…hang in there."

Danielle smiles, but it's sad. "I know you will. Don't worry about me."

 

 

Ryan decides that he's feeling disgusting, and after dropping the soup off at the kitchens, he heads for the showers. 

Ryan looks in the mirror as he dries off, scrutinizing in a new, obsessive way. He makes a face at the start of a zit at the side of his forehead, picking half-heartedly at it. He grimaces at his wild, curly hair, that he's never been able to tame. It'll always be that way, and Ryan's convinced by now that he was born with an entire afro.

Ryan sighs. Some little compliment that Danielle said to him shouldn't be affecting him this much. But now he's too aware of his own appearance to stop. He's definitely a mutt, half-Cuban and half-white. Ryan doesn't know if that'll earn him any hotness points, but he guesses that this was what got him all those kindergarten girlfriends. His skin has always been really tan, and it sometimes gets annoying. 

He's never really considered what he looks like before, but he decides that now's a good time.

Ryan lets his eyes wander downward, and he feels himself blush. He's never thought of himself as below-average, and he thinks that he's at least bigger than Michael.

Michael.

Ryan thinks of Michael, standing naked at the other end of his room, and feels his blood rush down. He promptly snaps his eyes open, starting to freak out.

Is this…too weird?

It's almost like they're such good friends, there's no way they could ever be lovers. And taking their relationship further would be…like, crossing a boundary. Ryan decides that they need to talk. Or this entire thing is going to be…insanely awkward, because the two of them are inexperienced idiots, having been cut off from the world before they reached third grade and most of their cusses and sex ed coming from a nineteen-year-old college dropout(Aaron.) Aaron's talks had mostly consisted of, "So the thing goes in the thing, and then they do the thing. Which happens. So. Now you know." and "But for two guys, the thing goes in the _other_ thing. So. Now you know that too."

He sighs, turning away from the mirror and getting dressed into flannel pants and a white tank top.

It's vegetating time.

 

 

"His Majesty's lunch." Ryan says as he pulls aside the curtain to his room, carrying a bowl of soup in one hand.

Michael groans and tries to turn over, but the healing scabs on his back stretch out and he winces, pulling the sheets around himself in an obvious attempt to hide it.

Ryan notices and puts the soup down, going to sit next to him. "You okay, MP?" Michael just nods, and Ryan runs a hand over his neck, rubbing softly. "Maybe I should go get some painkiller from Nathan, yeah?"

"No…" Michael looks over at the soup, then back at Ryan. "But that looks good."

Ryan grins, getting up and bringing the bowl over. "From Danielle."

Michael takes one sip, then his face turns completely blissful. "Oh my god."

"Yeah, she said it would make you better."

Michael drinks up the rest of it, then sets the bowl on the table beside the bed. "Ahhh."

"Hey, aren't those my sweatpants…and my shirt…and…" Ryan raises an eyebrow at Michael's outfit.

"Okay, I couldn't get up, and these were right next to the bed."

"Excuses, excuses."

Michael's head tips back as he laughs, exposing his neck. Ryan suddenly has this uncontrollable desire to mark up the pale skin with…something. He doesn't know what.

Ryan remembers that now, he can kiss Michael whenever he wants to. Time to take advantage of that.

Something like a growl builds in the back of his throat, and Ryan pushes Michael gently back onto the bed, mouth dropping immediately to his.

Michael makes an uncomfortable noise, but he laughs as Ryan nips impatiently at his bottom lip. Ryan anchors himself above Michael with an arm on either side of his head. "You can't just jump me when you want."

"Try me." Ryan moves to Michael's jaw, tracing his lips across it. He nuzzles across Michael's bruised cheek, the mark on it fading now. "Your argument…" Ryan presses a soft kiss to Michael's lips. "Is invalid."

Michael giggles and is about to pull Ryan down on top of him when a loud ruckus comes from outside the room and Nathan, Matt, Cullen, and Conor tumble inside. Michael lets out a shriek and pushes Ryan off of him, with surprising force for such a critically injured person. Ryan hits the floor on the other side with a grunt.

"What the fuck just happened here?" Cullen asks, but there's a knowing glint in his eyes as he glances over at the others.

"Nothing. Nothing." Michael gasps, slapping Ryan's hand off his leg as he clambers back up to stand. 

"Mikey!" Nathan raises a hand for a hi-five, and Michael hits it weakly. "Casualty Club was officially formed yesterday. Ricky's the president. I'm the veep. You can be…the secretary."

Michael rolls his eyes, wincing as he lays back down. "Whatever makes you feel included."

Cullen comes over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Well, I think I have an honorary position as treasurer. Because my arm still isn't recovered."

Nathan raises an eyebrow. "You have to go through initiation."

"What?! Fuck that! I do what I want!"

"No! You have to! It's a law!"

They stay and pretty much badger Michael for the next few hours, telling him how he'd better hurry the fuck up and get better, 'cause Ryan's really boring when he's not around. It's already been a week since the raid. Ryan feels Michael look over at him, and refuses to make eye contact, because it'll just end with him assaulting Michael again.

The cook shouts something down the hall, and Cullen claps his hands together. "Dinner calls. MP, get better soon."

"Yup. It's boring without you around." Conor gingerly pats his shoulder. "How long do you think it's gonna take, Nathan?"

"Maybe a couple weeks at most for it to stop being sore. Then another for him to completely recover." Nathan scrubs a hand through Michael's hair. "We'd better go." He wraps his arms gently around Michael's shoulders for a quick hug. "See ya. Get better, okay?"

As they all file out, Ryan immediately jumps back onto the bed. "So…" He looks down at Michael. "Are we gonna, like, tell them?"  
Michael smiles and runs a finger up Ryan's arm. "I think they already know."

"What?!" Ryan blushes. "We're that obvious…"

He remembers his thoughts in the showers, and scoots over to lean against the headboard, letting a hand rest in Michael's hair.

"Michael."

Michael looks up. Ryan swallows, then takes a deep breath. He's always been terrible at talking, but…he just has to do this.

"This isn't, like…like, awkward for you, is it?" Ryan squeezes his eyes shut. "'Cause, I was like, thinking…and, I don't want to like, force anything…" This is really not going the way he planned. "But, like, I mean- "

Then Michael's hand wraps around the back of his neck and he pulls Ryan down, their lips meeting. Ryan makes a sound of surprise when Michael's lips open immediately, and he draws his nails down the top notches of Ryan's spine. Ryan pulls away, almost…frightened. Jesus. 

Michael rolls his eyes, grinning. "Ryan, you need so much help."

"What?!" Ryan makes an indignant face. "Really, I was just…I didn't want to, like, force you into anything, because this could get really, really awkward if we wanted it to, like, but I don't wanna just be friends with benefits, and- "

"But…" Michael runs a hand down Ryan's side, pulling Ryan above him. "I don't want to make it awkward…or friends with benefits..." He nips at Ryan's ear, and Ryan literally full-body shudders. "And I don't think you want to, either."

"Fuck you, Phelps- " Ryan grits as Michael mouths at his earlobe. Michael laughs against his ear, and Ryan swears that it is the fucking sexiest sound he has ever heard. Why did he never even notice that before, damn it all.

"If you really have to…"

Ryan sits up, eyes widening. "No, no, I mean, y-yes, but NO OH MY- "

Michael laughs, pulling Ryan down next to him and shifting onto his side. "Spoon me, idiot."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "What in fuck's name is that?"

Michael looks over his shoulder, gaping. "What did you just say."

"What the fuck is spooning?"

"You've never heard, like, you know, you're my little spoon?"

"Hell to the no."

Michael shakes his head, then reaches around and tugs on one of Ryan's curls. "Ow." He mutters, but Michael just tugs harder.  
"Okay, well, I'm going to teach you how to do this, then."

Ryan's eyes widen. "This better not be some, like, complicated sex position or some shit like- "

Michael's hand claps over his mouth. "Just shut up and do what I tell you."

"Ooh, dominatrix. I like."

Michael rolls his eyes. "How do you know what that is and not…oh, never mind. Okay, so you have to…face me."

Ryan obediently does so, Michael keeping a close eye on him. "The whole point is for it _not_ to be horny." He remarks as Ryan reaches down and adjusts himself. 

"Hey, your ass is like, right there, and- "

"Just shut up. Okay, arm around my waist."

Ryan awkwardly lifts his forearm up and sets it stiffly on Michael's side. "There."

"No, okay, you know what, just give me your arm." Michael grabs at Ryan's hand and brings it around himself, lacing his fingers through Ryan's. "Now we're good."

Ryan actually doesn't mind all that much, but decides to gripe just for the sake of griping. "So, we're supposed to sleep now? This'll be so fucking uncomfortable for me. And did you ever think of- "

But then Michael turns his head and kisses him, one hand reaching around to pull him closer, and Ryan finds that, well, he can't complain after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks is going to be skipped for the next one. A) Because I'm too lazy. B) Because I feel the need to speed things along a bit. C) Because racing. XD   
> The title of this chapter is, again, from Last Night on Earth.


	16. Ashes to Ashes of Our Youth

Aaron's called them to his office at least twenty times in the past three weeks, and Ryan is getting antsy. He's said that the next raid will be the big one, and they should all keep on training and focusing on getting as strong as they can, no slacking off, no sirree. 

Michael is capable of getting up and walking around by himself within the first week, practically a miracle, Nathan says. Danielle insists that it's because of her soup. Ryan just lets himself be relieved when he sees that Michael can move freely again. 

Aaron's just letting them out of a strategy-planning/bro chill session, and Ryan immediately drags Michael to the entrance of the Underground with him. "I need air." 

They walk in silence for a while, just looking around them. Ryan slips an arm around Michael and pulls him in as they pass their old hideout, the diner a few blocks away.

"You remember we used to sleep in that booth?" Michael points to the one farthest from the window. They always slept near the back exit, in case anything bad happened and they could make a quick getaway. 

"Yeah." Ryan looks inside. He can see them sitting on the floor, making inventories of their supplies and calculating just how long everything would last. It brings a wave of nostalgia over him, and he has to turn away to avoid looking like an idiot.

"C'mon. Let's go to Grand Circus." Michael smiles, heading off in that direction.

Grand Circus Park was definitely one of the last beautiful places in Detroit, before the Revival came and burned it down. It used to be filled with lush green oaks and ashes, filtering the sunlight through their leaves and dappling the walkways crossing through the park. Ryan always used to go there with Michael and his parents, and they'd play in the grass and pretend they were Pokemon. Ryan would always be Pikachu, and Michael would be Charmander, and together they'd go adventuring, scrunching themselves up into Pokeball shapes and popping up at random times.

Now, the park is grey and desolate, with only one tree left, still barely alive after all these years. Its leaves are browning and diseased, though, and it looks as if it's at the end of its days.

Michael walks up to it and just looks for a long time. Ryan knows that his memories are taking over him, and he puts a hand on Michael's shoulder.

"Hey, an acorn." Michael says eventually, his voice quiet.

Ryan smiles, watching Michael bend down and pick it up off the ground. It's somehow still green, only a slight brown darkening its sides. "Whoa, bro."

Michael gives him a look and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Shut up."

Ryan looks down at it, then up at Michael, whose suddenly looks like he's about to start crying. Ryan takes his hand.

"Let's…let's plant it when it gets warmer." Michael murmurs, fingers pressing in on Ryan's.

Ryan smiles, pulling Michael in for a hug. He feels Michael's head drop onto his shoulder, and he runs a hand up his back. "Yeah. We will."

There's a silent "if we're still here" at the end, and Ryan knows that Michael catches it. Michael slips the acorn into Ryan's coat pocket and pulls away, turning his face up to the sky. 

"I love you." 

It comes out of nowhere, but Ryan's heart skips a beat. He wraps his arms around Michael's waist and pulls him in, letting his head rest in the crook of Michael's neck. He stares at the scuffed heels of Michael's worn Chuck Taylors, stolen from Foot Locker a few years before.

"I love you, too."

"No, I don't think you really understand."

Ryan looks up, confused, and sees a wide smile on Michael's face, his eyes closed. "I love you so much, Ryan, I don't think…I don't think you even get it. Like, I can't even believe we went so long without…without this."

Ryan grins and presses a kiss to Michael's jaw. "Yeah, neither can I."

"But, I need to shut up now."

"What? Why?"

"Ryan…"

Michael pulls away and wraps his arms around Ryan's neck, looking him in the eyes. 

"Ryan, I want you to fuck me."

It's like the world around them disappears, and the only thing that Ryan can focus on is what Michael just said. 

"Uh- uh-" He splutters intelligently, but then Michael's lips press to his and he herds them into the street and against the wall of a building. 

"Just…don't say…a word." Michael whispers, and Ryan can't help his body's natural reaction. 

"Michael, Jesus, I- " Ryan mutters between kisses, letting out a soft groan as Michael's hips bump against his.

"What did I say?" 

Ryan just lets his body take over, suddenly overcome with the need to…do _something_ , god dammit. Michael's lips open against his, and Ryan slides his tongue in, groaning. Michael murmurs something, and Ryan's hands can't help but travel down. He stops them as soon as he realizes where they're headed.

"Michael…" He pants, breaking away. "We have to go…inside."

Michael smirks and pulls Ryan's hips forward, but then a laugh comes from the other side of the building.

"Stop…" It's a voice that sounds…familiar.

Ryan flattens himself against the wall and motions for Michael to stay behind. If there's something dangerous on the other side, he doesn't want it even knowing Michael's there.

Michael just rolls his eyes and shoves Ryan out of the way, striding around the corner of the building and tugging Ryan behind him.

What they see is almost inconceivable.

Nathan is pinned against the cold wall of the building by Matt, arms wrapped around his neck. Matt's kissing him with an enthusiasm that Ryan's never seen before. He looks immediately over at Michael, who just coughs awkwardly.

Matt's head snaps up, and Nathan lets out an almighty screech as he sees Michael and Ryan standing there, jaws hanging down to their knees. 

"AH." Nathan scrambles away from Matt, dusting off his shirt. "HEY there, guys."

Matt forcefully pushes away from the wall and stands a good ten feet away from Nathan. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

Ryan just lets his mouth hang open for a long time, then closes it, remembering his (nonexistent) manners. "Y- yeah."

They all just stare back and forth at each other for a minute, then Michael clears his throat, sounding more like he's hacking out a hairball. "Well, we'll be, uh…going now." Nathan and Mat nod, making every attempt possible not to look at each other. The next thing Ryan knows, Michael snatching his elbow and dragging him back around the corner of the building.

Once they're about a block away, Michael spins Ryan around and kisses him.

Ryan pulls back, surprised. "What was that for?"

"Nothing."

"Oh. Okay."

They walk back to the Underground, laughing and gossiping about how Nathan and Matt are going to be the new hot item. Michael claims he predicted it all along. Ryan just rolls his eyes and kisses him again.

 

 

When they get back to the Underground, the sun has already started to set, and the guards let them reproachfully in. Aaron is talking with them, and he gives Michael and Ryan a look. "Don't stay out so late next time."

Ryan assumes that they're going to go back to his room, and…

And…

Christ.

Ryan feels a little freaked out by all this.

Like this should have happened earlier, not after fifteen years of just not seeing what was in front of them. Like he's going to screw everything up when they finally, well, get to the doing it part, because he legit has no idea how this works and fuck it if Michael does. 

Michael. Ryan's never really thought of Michael and _that_ in the same sentence, and it freaks him out even more. He tries to breathe and calm himself down as they near his room, but it's hopeless. Now he's thinking about Michael and his…his fucking body, which actually has muscle now and fuck fuck fuck. FUCK.

Ryan tries to be cool as he draws aside the curtain to his room, but no, because Michael just barges in and flops down on his bed. Fine. And he even plays dirty by lifting up the hem of his shirt and scratching at his stomach. Ryan blushes as a pale strip of skin is exposed, the bruises almost faded entirely now.

"Really?" Ryan goes and sits by Michael, not entirely sure how to go about this whole thing.

"What?"

"…Nothing."

Michael sits up and looks at Ryan closely. "No. Something's wrong." One of his hands comes up and runs over Ryan's cheek, and Ryan closes his eyes. "What's up?"

Ryan reaches up and takes Michael's hand, turning it over in his lap. There's a scar on the back of it that Ryan remembers from the time they were attacked by a gang of stragglers sometime in the month after the bombings. A shard of glass had cut through Michael's hand when a round of gunfire blasted through the window of the shop they were hiding in. Ryan remembers the feeling in his heart when he saw the blood on Michael's skin, and he understands what's making everything…awkward for him now."I just…" He struggles to come up with an explanation, then sighs.

"Michael, I don't want to…I don't want to hurt you."

Michael looks confused. "For…oh, for that."

Ryan nods, running his thumb over the scar on Michael's hand. "I mean, you might be pretty much healed, but…like, I…I don't know how to fucking do this."

Michael raises his eyebrows. "You've never even heard- "

"No! No, of course, I mean, like…" This is getting incredibly awkward. "I just don't want to screw something up and, like, kill you or something."

Michael bursts out laughing, and Ryan blushes and punches him softly on the shoulder. "Shut up."

Then, taking Ryan completely by surprise, Michael's suddenly shifting so that his lips are only an inch away from Ryan's and he's sitting in his lap in one movement.

"Ryan." Ryan feels Michael's lips press to his cheekbone, and he can't help but let himself lean into Michael. He pushes Michael's thighs gently apart and slides them around his hips, and Michael presses forward, tipping Ryan's head back to kiss at his lips. "You're not going to hurt me."

Ryan closes his eyes, feeling his pants getting tighter as Michael's arms wrap around his neck and their hips bump together. "But what if- "

"Shh." Michael whispers, and that's it. Ryan's done for. Michael rocks his hips slowly forward, pressing their mouths together. Ryan's hard now, and he can feel that Michael is too. It's a strange, almost alien feeling, to be experiencing it with Michael, but Ryan's not about to complain. "I trust you." Michael's fingers run through his hair, and Ryan can't help but grab onto Michael's hips to keep him slowly grinding down. Ryan moans and, unable to control himself any longer, pushes his tongue into Michael's mouth when he parts his lips, one arm moving to wrap around Michael's waist and pulling him closer. His head is in a haze, and Michael's doing something incredible with his tongue, fingers now twisted in Ryan's hair, and it's just too much.

Ryan runs his hand up Michael's side under his shirt. "Taking this off."

Michael smiles against his lips and beats him to it, stripping the shirt over his head and throwing it in a corner of the room. Ryan's momentarily dumbfounded at all the bare skin, like he's never seen it before. Michael's hands suddenly tug the hem of his own t-shirt over his head, and Ryan just attacks Michael's mouth again, hands settling back on his hips.

Michael's hand floats downward, and Ryan groans quietly as it brushes over the front of his pants. "Jesus." His head falls forward to rest against Michael's neck, and as Michael unzips his jeans, Ryan bites down on the skin there, leaving a mark. Michael moans and tips his head back, hips jerking forward.

"Ryan, please."

Ryan breathes hard against the side of his neck, hand finding the zipper of Michael's jeans. "Are you sure?"

Michael nods and presses closer to Ryan, eyes sliding closed as Ryan pushes his pants down and kisses him again. Michael lets his tongue in with a soft moan, hand curling in Ryan's hair again. Ryan groans, lifting Michael up by the backs of his thighs and pulling his jeans off completely. He slides carefully out of his own, gritting his teeth as his dick presses against the hot skin of Michael's inner thigh. 

Suddenly, they're naked and breathless, hips rocking desperately together. Ryan looks at Michael, sliding his hands over his waist and just taking in his body. It's like it's the first time he's seen Michael. It's too much for Ryan, feeling the heat of Michael's skin against his own and wondering how he could ignore all this for so long. "Ryan." Michael gasps out as Ryan bends his head and sucks another mark onto his jawline. "Ryan, please, just- "

Ryan kisses him and gently pushes him down onto the sheets, supporting himself above Michael. It's like he's seeing Michael for the first time, his hands wandering over Michael's torso and along his shoulders. He leans down and kisses a trail down Michael's surprisingly soft neck, and he swears he can actually feel Michael's pulse pick up under his mouth. His own mind is kind of out of order at the moment. 

Ryan sucks softly at Michael's collarbone, scraping his teeth over it, and Michael moans, hips lifting and one arm wrapping around Ryan's neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Ryan slips a hand carefully under the small of Michael's back, letting it travel lower and lower until he grips Michael's ass, pulling him upward.

"Shit, yes, Ry, shit- " Michael gasps out, eyes fluttering closed. Ryan's own pulse is thudding under his skin. He can't even process that they're doing this yet.

"You're sure?" He says quietly, placing light kisses across Michael's collarbone. He brings his hand back up and strokes up Michael's arm.

"I'm sure." Michael whispers, and Ryan catches Michael's hand in his own and brings it up to rest on the pillow next to Michael's head, lacing their fingers tightly together. He raises his other hand to his mouth and sucks on two of his fingers, heart pounding.   
Taking a deep breath, Ryan trails his hand between Michael's legs and slides one inside him. When his finger enters completely, Michael gasps out something unintelligible, head jerking backward and his hand tightening on Ryan's. 

"Okay?" Ryan breathes, and Michael nods, breathing hard. Ryan lets himself relax, kissing Michael's neck. He slips another finger inside, and Michael cries out as he crooks them, finding some spot inside him. Ryan groans, because even if he could only hear the sounds Michael's making, it would be enough. "Shit, fuck, you're beautiful." He says into Michael's chest as he crooks his fingers again, and Michael's nails scrape down his back. 

"Fuck, Ry, there- " He moans desperately, and Ryan's breath hitches.

"You…you ready?" He asks carefully, hovering over Michael, almost awestruck. Michael's cheeks are flushed, and his chest is falling and rising rapidly with pleasure. Michael just pulls him down and kisses him again, hips moving upward. Ryan groans, fingers slipping out and around Michael's thigh and his grip tightening on Michael's hand. He brings Michael's legs up around his hips, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

Michael closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and Ryan pulls back to look at his face as he caresses gently over Michael's leg, pulling it further around himself.

When Ryan pushes inside, his vision is filled with stars, and he loses the control to form words. Michael gasps, biting down on his shoulder as Ryan thrusts all the way inside, their fingers laced tightly together. "Ry…"

"It doesn't…hurt?" Ryan grits out, moaning as Michael shifts his legs underneath him. He kisses under Michael's ear to distract himself, because if Michael does that again, he's seriously going to pass out. The way Michael feels around him is mind-blowing. Ryan can't describe it in any other way.

"No, no…Ry, it doesn't hurt- " Michael moans as Ryan drops his head and kisses him gently, slowly rolling his hips. "Oh god."

Ryan settles into a careful rhythm, gritting to a stop the dirty words fighting their way out of his mouth. Michael's leg hikes up around his back, pushing Ryan deeper inside him until he hits something. Something that makes Michael cry out and dig his nails into Ryan's back and clench his hand tighter. Ryan moans, thrusting again, and Michael's leg tightens around him. He's getting really fucking close, so close, and he can tell Michael's about to tip over the edge.

When Ryan leans down and presses kisses in a soft path down Michael's jaw, sucking and biting gently at Michael's neck, Michael can't hold it in anymore, gasping and running his fingers desperately down Ryan's back. "Ryan, fuck, I'm going to- "

Ryan presses one last kiss to Michael's lips before pulling back to look in awe at Michael's face, usually pale cheeks flushed, eyes closing as he comes between them and tightening around Ryan with a low moan. That's all it takes.

"Fuck, I love you, Michael, I love you." Ryan gasps, eyes sliding closed as he comes inside Michael. His arms gives out, and Michael pulls him tightly against himself before Ryan can fall. Ryan lets his head drop onto the mattress next to Michael's as he pulls out, still holding Michael's hand. He kisses on the marks he made on Michael's neck and collarbone, Michael's pulse still throbbing under his skin. 

They lie in silence for a while, Ryan occasionally pressing a kiss wherever his mouth can reach. Michael's still breathing hard five minutes later, and Ryan smiles.

"That good, huh."

Michael doesn't answer, just nods and runs a hand through Ryan's hair. Ryan finds the will to move and props himself with on one elbow on either side of Michael's head, looking down at him.

"It didn't…like, you know?" He asks quietly, running the his thumb over the edge of Michael's jaw.

Michael smiles, reaching up to flick Ryan's nose. "No, I'm in agony. I won't be able to sit down for a week."

Ryan grins. Trust Michael to say _that_ after they bang.

But he wouldn't really use such a coarse term as…banging.

It was more of a discovery. A discovery of what their bodies are capable of, of how being so close for so long made the whole thing…better, in some unsaid way. Even though Ryan knows it was both of their first times, he feels like it couldn't get any more amazing than that.

Ryan lays his head down on Michael's chest, listening to his heart. He smiles into Michael's skin, kissing at it softly. "Your heart's really fast." He remarks, feeling a little stupid, but he thinks he's doing just fine so far for his first time.

Ryan's a little surprised when Michael's hand comes to rest on his jaw, tilting his head up. "Ryan, c'mere."

Ryan slides himself back up Michael's body, and Michael places a hand softly on the left side of his chest. Ryan's struck with the simple nature of the gesture, but it's so real, so human. "Yours is, too." Michael murmurs, one knuckle kneading into the muscle there.

Ryan smiles and drops his mouth to Michael's to kiss him again, overcome with something inside him. It's warm, and it tingles, and when Michael's lips part under his and he lets out a soft sigh, it just gets stronger. "Michael." He says between kisses, hand slipping into Michael's again and bringing it around his neck. "I love you."

Michael grins against his lips, and Ryan feels so happy in that moment, because this is perfect, and this is the way things should always be, forever.

"I know you do."

Ryan rubs his thumb across the back of Michael's hand, nuzzling Michael's neck. "And do you love me?"

He hears Michael's giggle and moves to his neck, kissing just below his jaw. "Lemme think a little on that…" 

Ryan pulls away, a horrified expression on his face. "WHAT." 

He can't help but pout as Michael tugs him back down, laughing. "Your face."

"I'm serious…" Ryan whines, but the issue is forgotten as Michael gently nibbles on the edge of his ear.

"Ryan." Michael whispers, and Ryan closes his eyes, because he feels like that's appropriate. 

"Ryan, I love you. And…" He kisses Ryan's earlobe. "I don't really care how cheesy this is going to sound, because you're NOT going to laugh."

Ryan smiles, but his heart is pounding again. "Whatever you say."

"You remember when we wrote on the bathroom wall? "

Ryan nods. "Yeah. I think it was, like, our first month in the Underground." 

Michael's arms tighten around his back. "Do you remember what it said?"

Ryan thinks for a little, finding he doesn't know anymore. He's not sure what to think of it. "No, I don't."

"Well…" Michael whispers, "I was thinking the other day, and I remembered. Ryan…" He hears Michael swallow. "It had our initials and a doodle of us holding hands around them."

Ryan smiles, closing his eyes and laying his head back down on Michael's chest, right on top of his heart. The memories suddenly come back to him. His was in red, and Michael's was a light blue. "I think I remember now. You had just, like, gotten better, because you were really sick, I remember that." He opens his eyes, looking up at Michael. "And I was so happy, because I thought you were going to die or something, and I was just like, we need something to remember this. And we did that."

Michael doesn't answer for a while, just lets his hand trail through Ryan's curls. "But…" Ryan listens carefully, and he can hear Michael's pulse accelerate. "Ryan…I'm trying to say…" Michael sounds like he's about to choke, and Ryan reaches a hand up, running it over Michael's cheek.

"What?"

"I think…" Michael takes a deep breath. "I think that we…we've been in love for…for a really long time, and we just didn't know it. That's what I'm trying to say."

Ryan can't stop the smile from spreading over his face, because that statement has just answered every question he's ever had. "I think you're right."

"I mean…" Michael pulls him up to look him in the eyes. "And because of that, like, I…" He presses a kiss to Ryan's lips. "It's impossible for me…not to love you, Ryan."

Ryan tries to breathe, blinking hard. "You…you…"

Michael smiles and runs his hand down Ryan's arm. "I think that I've been in love with you for so long, I can't not be. And this…I think it, like, lasts through everything, or something. Because even when you're off destroying stuff, or if you're, you know, having one of your episodes, then I still have this…painful feeling in my chest, Ry, and I think that I figured out what it is now."

Ryan takes a deep breath, because Michael has literally blown his mind a thousand times tonight. "So, you're saying…"

"I'm saying…" Michael smiles then, kissing Ryan gently. "I'm saying that you don't even have to ask me if I love you, because, no matter what, the answer's always going to be yes."

Ryan can't help it. He lets his arm collapse, and he sinks down, kissing Michael harder. Michael's eyes slide closed, and his arms wrap around Ryan's neck. "Michael, I really love you, you know." Ryan says breathlessly, in a mixed state of shock and pure happiness. He smiles, in a daze, and Michael laughs, rolling them over and resting his head on Ryan's chest.

"And…" Ryan closes his eyes and smiles. "You love me."

It's not a question.

The last thing he hears before he goes to sleep is Michael's soft laugh, echoing through the room with the promise that it's going to keep him warm that night.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL then.  
> I take back all my previous "that was the most stressful chapter comments complain complain rant rant" comments, because let me tell ya, this was not even.   
> You know, the best thing about the lovely Phlochte is that you can do whatever you want with them and they won't care, because they don't even know and they need to GET RID OF THEIR BEARD GFS RIGHT THIS SECOND AND JUST MAKE OUT. I mean, honestly.  
> Can they not…  
> http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3k8-57UD8ng/Ti3vaKVgHVI/AAAAAAAAAoE/ar9ybcOquR4/s1600/phlochte2.jpg  
> Be more…  
> http://i401.photobucket.com/albums/pp93/threeamigas09/PHLOCHTE/610x35.jpg  
> Obvious.  
> http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ma7c9vJJuZ1rqtgey.jpg  
> The title of this chapter is from ¡Viva La Gloria!. It's got a lot of lyrics that serve well as chapter titles, mostly because I'm too lazy to make up my own, so…listen and love!  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ArkPc1N5gw


	17. From The Light's Early Dawn

His mother reaches out her hands, arms opening, and kneels on the wet grass in front of him.  
"Come here, baby."

"Mama!" Michael goes to her, but he's smaller then he expected. When he looks down, he's barefoot and his toes are dirty and bleeding, the dew on the grass soothing them.

"Mama." He whispers, and his mother enfolds him in her arms. 

"I missed you, darling."

Michael closes his eyes, but the usual sweet scent of her is gone. It's more…acrid. Like smoke.

"I missed you so much." 

Her voice is oddly deep.

Michael tries to pull away, but she holds him there, almost crushing him. Michael feels a wave of panic inside him, and struggles, but she won't let go of him. "Mama…" He chokes, feeling his ribs being squeezed. "Mama, I can't breathe…"

"It's alright, darling." Michael's eyes widen in horror as he recognizes that the voice is Washington's. But it's too late. "That's just me showing you how much I love you."

Michael feels a searing heat spread across his skin, and Washington's hands slide up his back. "I love you so much, I could kill you."

Washington's body engulfs in orange flames, the heat becoming unbearable, and the last thing Michael hears before he wakes up is Washington's laugh, carrying through the roar of the fire and into his mind.

 

 

Michael sits straight up with a gasp, eyes flying open. He has to actually think about breathing just to get his heart rate back to normal, hunching over on the side of the bed.

It was so real. 

Michael can actually feel the flames flickering over his skin, heat taking over, can still hear Washington's cruel laugh echoing in his ears. He pants softly, heart refusing to calm down. If it keeps going like this, he's going to pass out or something. Michael breathes deeply, but it's shallow, and he feels like his chest is caving in on itself.

He starts to panic, because it's so dark, and his brain hasn't quite recovered yet. Things leap out at him from the shadows, forming shapes that are unrecognizable, but still terrifying. Michael can't move, and he sits there, feeling utterly helpless as his dream threatens to resurface.

He feels a stirring next to him and lets out a muffled scream, only to clap a hand over his mouth.

"Ry?" He whispers shakily in the dark, panicking. Everything feels like it's about to press into him, and the air is too thick.

"Michael?"

Michael feels Ryan sit up next to him, a warm hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He allows himself to breathe, trying desperately to calm his heart, but it still thunders along in his chest. "Ryan.." Michael's voice is more of a squeak, and he forces his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

"Michael, what's up?" Ryan's voice is closer now, and his arm wraps around Michael's waist. Michael's still trembling, even though he should have a grip by now, and he knows that Ryan can feel it. It's only when he feels Ryan's warmth press against his back that he allows himself to relax a little.

"Nothing…" He mutters, feeling a little guilty now that he woke Ryan up because he couldn't handle a goddamn dream. "It's fine. Go back to sleep."

"No, it's not." Ryan sounds more awake now, and Michael feels his forehead press to the back of his neck, nuzzling into it. Michael's eyes close against his will, and he leans back into Ryan with a soft sigh. "What's wrong?" 

Michael tries to pull away, embarrassed, but Ryan knows him too well. He kisses the back of Michael's neck and holds him down, wrapping his other arm around Michael. "Bad dream." 

Michael rolls his eyes. "How did you even…" 

"Just…shush." Ryan murmurs, resting his chin on Michael's shoulder. "What happened in it?" 

Michael looks back at Ryan, but he can't see his expression in the dark. "Well…" He sighs. "No. You need to sleep. What time is it?" 

Ryan checks the ticking clock absently. "Sevenish. But I don't really care about that right now. Tell me." 

Michael rolls his eyes. "Fine. But let me get a light on." 

"No, stay there. I got it." 

Michael is both surprised and pleased as Ryan gets up and lights the candle next to his bed, Mother's electricity systems not quite working so early. "Thanks." 

Ryan doesn't answer, just climbs on top of Michael and kisses his cheek before lying next to him. Michael smiles as Ryan pulls the covers back around them. 

"So, anyway." Ryan yawns and runs his hand up Michael's side, resting it in the crook of his waist and pulling him closer. "This dream." 

Michael sighs, relaxing into Ryan's touch. His warmth is so comforting, Michael almost forgets the whole reason why he woke up. "Well…my mom was in it." 

Ryan nods, stroking his hand up and down Michael's side thoughtfully. "Yeah." 

"And she was like, come to me, baby." Michael swallows. "I mean, but somewhere, she like, turned into Washington, and…and it was really fucking scary." 

"Oh." Ryan murmurs, then he lets go of Michael, sliding on top of him and kissing him on the lips. Michael's eyes slide closed, and he lets Ryan's tongue slip into his mouth.

A part of his mind still isn't entirely convinced that what's happening is reality. 

Most of him still can't get a handle on exactly what they did last night, but it's not like he minds. Not at all.

The whole thing had been…so new, Michael's not sure how he's supposed to follow up. Do it again? He isn't sure how to judge. Do it again, but…in a different way? He doesn't know any. 

Ryan had seemed so sure of himself, the way he kissed Michael, the way he just moved their bodies naturally into the right place. Michael doesn't know if he can be that way, if he seemed like that. But it was his first time, first time to ever be touched by anyone else, and was the exact opposite of disappointing. Michael's not sure if it felt the way it was supposed to feel, but it was the most intense…anything he had ever felt. Ever. 

And he wouldn't object to doing it again. Not at all.

Ryan kisses over his cheekbone, the bruise completely healed now. "But I'm here now. So…so you don't need to be scared anymore." 

Michael smiles. "I know." 

He feels Ryan's breath ghost across his collarbone, and his eyes close as Ryan's lips press to his skin. It's like the surface of it lights on fire wherever Ryan kisses him. 

Ryan sucks gently on the hollow of the bone, making Michael's heartbeat speed up. "Ry- "

"Mm…" Ryan murmurs distractedly, focusing on the task at hand. Michael really can't complain. He decides to just let things take their course.

"So…" Ryan says, kissing up his jaw. "Are you feeling better now?"

Michael can't answer right away, because Ryan gets up onto his elbows and pulls Michael's earlobe between his teeth. "Um…uh…I…"

"Good." Ryan whispers. He moves back to Michael's neck, sucking hard enough to leave an instant mark. Michael gasps softly, and feels Ryan smile against his skin.

"Lochte." He mutters, the now hard outline of Ryan's dick pressed against his hip. 

"Mm-hm?" Ryan says, and his hand wanders down to squeeze Michael's thigh. Michael can't help but let his breath hitch as Ryan's hand runs up the inside of his leg. 

"Ry." Michael gasps again as Ryan's hand brushes over his dick, just slightly. "Oh my- "

"MP." Ryan laughs, the sound deep in his ear. "MP, you're so worked up." His hand disappears, and he pulls back to grin down at Michael.

 _Fine, if we're going to do it that way,_ Michael thinks grumpily, his dick neglected. But Ryan's mouth drops back to his neck, pressing kisses that aren't quite soft to the skin on the side of it, and Michael lets his eyes close, letting a soft moan slip out of his mouth. 

When he opens them back up, however, he sees Ryan pulling a finger out of his mouth, eyes turned up to his with a mischievous glint.

"Oh fucking- " Michael gasps, groaning as Ryan kisses him deeply and brings his other hand back up Michael's body to the edge of the sheet, lifting it off of them.

"Michael, can I…" Ryan trails off, nuzzling Michael's neck, where his pulse is already pounding through his veins. 

Michael's breath catches in his throat, and Ryan's hand travels lower, coasting over his abdomen. "Fuck." He mutters as Ryan strokes him unexpectedly, his hips jerking upward. "Fuck, Ry, just- "

Ryan just kisses him again to shut him up, hand leaving his dick. Michael lets him gently push his thighs apart, groaning as Ryan bites at the center of his chest. "Ry…" 

He gasps as Ryan slides his finger inside him, back arching. It feels so good, so fucking _good_ , god fucking dammit, Ryan shouldn't be able to do this to him with one little finger. "Ry, Jesus- "

"Mikey." Ryan breathes, and it occurs to Michael that Ryan might just be as incoherent as he is. Ryan's finger crooks, and Michael gasps, the sound turning into a whimper as Ryan rubs the tip of his finger in a slow circle. That hits that thing inside him, that thing that makes him completely break down and just lose it. He still has no idea what it is, but he's not about to start complaining.

"Oh my fu- " He's cut off as Ryan inserts another finger, brushing both of them over that damn over-sensitive spot, dammit. His hips jerk up and he clings to Ryan, wrapping an arm around his neck and crying out as Ryan's fingers start rubbing faster. "Ryan…"

Ryan just laughs softly, pulling his fingers out and making Michael moan. He has to actually close his eyes in order to return to reality, panting as Ryan licks over the marks on his neck. Ryan kisses his cheek, slipping one hand underneath Michael's thigh and bringing it around his waist. "Don't worry, MP."

Michael groans as Ryan's erection presses against the inside of his leg, and he rocks forward, arms tightening around Ryan's neck. Ryan kisses him, deep and slow, as he slowly pushes in, one hand still resting on Michael's thigh. 

Michael gasps, eyes closing as Ryan slides all the way in. He loses all sense of everything around him, it's just him and Ryan and the feeling deep inside himself. He can't even process anything else.

When Ryan starts to move, it hurts a little, just like it did before, and he lets out a small gasp, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Mikey…" He can hear the slightest edge of fear in Ryan's voice, fear that he's hurt Michael. Michael opens his eyes, bringing Ryan's mouth down to his own. "You okay?" Ryan murmurs against his mouth, groaning as Michael pushes his tongue forward to meet Ryan's.

Michael just kisses him harder and runs his hand through Ryan's hair, smoothing down the bedhead at the back. "I'm fine." He says, breath catching as Ryan shifts his hips forward. "Just- "

"Got it." Ryan murmurs, and then he's setting a pace, and Michael's gone. When Ryan hits that spot, he has to sink his teeth into Ryan's shoulder, leg hiking up Ryan's back. Ryan groans, his hips speeding up, and Michael can't breathe. He's getting close.

"Ry…" Michael groans, gasping as Ryan bite gently at his throat, one hand going between them to wrap around his dick. "Fuck!" Michael cries out, and Ryan's hips start bucking.

"Michael." Ryan groans, and that's all it takes for Michael to come with a moan, Ryan following him a second later.

Ryan collapses onto his chest, kissing lightly over his skin, and Michael lets his legs fall open, the muscles in them giving out completely. 

"God." Ryan murmurs, pressing a kiss to Michael's chin. "You're like, covered in hickies."

Michael can't inspect himself at the moment, but he trusts Ryan on that. "Mm…" He says lazily, still not quite recovered. He drags a heavy hand up Ryan's back and strokes it through Ryan's hair, smoothing the back over, then mussing it up, then finger-combing through the tangles again. Ryan sighs happily, eyelashes brushing across Michael's collarbone.

Michael allows himself to just lie there and breathe for a minute. "So, that Matt and Nathan thing." 

Ryan laughs softly. "Yeah, that. What the."

"I mean, they could've at least told us. Then I wouldn't have had a heart attack."

Ryan looks up at Michael and grins. "Um, look at us."

Michael snorts and tugs on one of Ryan's curly strands. "Yeah. Look at us."

They lie in silence for a while, Michael's fingers running slowly through Ryan's hair. 

After a few minutes, Michael feels something build up inside him, and he has to let it out. "Ryan." He whispers.

Ryan nods against his chest. " 'Sup?"

"I really love you, you know." 

It's the truth, and Michael's just telling it.

Ryan lifts himself up onto his elbows, looking down at Michael. "Same for me, " He says quietly, smiling. "But…" Ryan leans down and kisses Michael's cheek. "But about you."

Michael closes his eyes, pushing Ryan's head back down on his chest. He doesn't really think he can handle Ryan's expression right now. "Thank you, Ry."

Ryan smiles and Michael feels his eyes close. His hand returns to Ryan's head, the motion natural to him. They stay there for how long, Michael doesn't know, but he just lets his mind do endless circles, losing himself.

Michael opens his eyes and turns his head slightly, then lets out an almighty screech.

Aaron is standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open, a folder of papers at the floor by his feet.

Ryan's head jerks up, and he promptly falls over the other side of the bed, landing with a crash. Michael screeches again and yanks the sheets up over his exposed body, flushing bright red.

"AARON!" He yells, scrambling to a sitting position and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, kicking Ryan in the back. "WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU?"

Aaron just stares and stutters, gesturing to the papers. "Pluh…plans for…attack…"

Michael nods furiously, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. 

Aaron's gulp is visible. He clears his throat and starts backing out the doorway. "Well…I'll, um, be going now. Just look at those." He says hurriedly, then throws the curtain aside and scurries out.

Michael's heart is still pounding, and he staggers back to the bed. Ryan emerges and wraps his arms around Michael, eyes wide.

"Did that just." Ryan says, and Michael can tell that he's about to crack up.

"Yes, it did just." Michael replies, leaning back to stare into Ryan's eyes. Their blue is just starting to come alive in the light from the candle. 

"Well." Ryan snorts.

Michael snorts.

And then they're laughing, whooping, more like it, and clutching at each other as they collapse onto the mattress. Michael buries his face in Ryan's shoulder, trying to suppress it, but everything just comes tumbling out. It's been so long since they laughed like this, holding each other just so they can breathe, completely falling apart in each other's arms. 

Michael can't remember the last time he was this happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Michael's pov. Been a while.  
> Seventeen chapters in! Lawd! I hope everyone's liked it. How am I doing so far?  
> Guys, thank you so much for all the kudos(83-gasp!!) I REALLY appreciate the support :)  
> The title of this one is from 21st Century Breakdown.   
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lEk0pm3FPI


	18. Soldiers of The New World

It's been three days since their discovery, and Michael still can't look at Aaron properly. He knows that Aaron is way more mature than him, and at least he doesn't flinch away and start blathering about needing to use the bathroom and then dash off in the opposite direction when Michael tries to talk to him.

Eventually, Michael can't stand it anymore, and he barges right into Aaron's office after training. Aaron's head snaps up, and Michael walks right up to his desk, mouth opening and closing.

"'Sup, kiddo?" Aaron says, expressionless, but Michael knows him well enough that he's exploding inside.

"Aaron." Michael sighs. "Just get to the point."

Aaron looks away, then back to Michael, then away. "Um, yeah…well…I, uh, sorry I walked in on you, I guess."

Michael blushes harder than he should, putting a hand up. "No, I mean, like- "

Aaron rolls his eyes. "Well, let's just say I didn't expect _that_ to be happening in that room."

"But…but…" Michael swallows. "You're not, like, freaked out?"

"Michael…" Aaron grins. "I've been on this earth twelve years longer than you have. This is nothing."

Michael blushes and fidgets, sitting on the edge of Aaron's desk. "But, like, Ryan and I- "

"Please." Aaron waves his hand dismissively. "I knew all along."

Michael's jaw drops. "Excuse me?!"

Aaron laughs, punching Michael's shoulder gently. "Bro, you guys are so obvious."

Michael raises an eyebrow. "It's only been a couple weeks."

"But when you sit on his lap and stroke your fingers gently through his hair while whispering in his ear?" Aaron grins. "Mikey. I bet you haven't even had The Talk yet."

"Well…that's just…" Michael blushes even harder. "Okay, no. But…okay, no I haven't. But you can't blame me for that."

"Oh my god, I didn't actually expect you to admit it. You're kidding me, right?"

"Shut up!"

"Michael…" Aaron is staring at him incredulously. "Did you even know what you were doing?"

Michael is so red, he can practically smell the heat on his skin. "EXCUSE ME- "

"I mean, if you didn't know, then you might be seriously injured-"

"AARON!"

"Okay, okay." Aaron puts up his hands, laughing. "But…" His expression turns decidedly mischievous, and he motions for Michael to lean in. Michael does, but he's suspicious. "I want all the juicy deets."

Michael's jaw unhinges, and he literally has to pop it back into place with his hand. "WHAT- WHAT- "

"Dude, dude." Aaron whistles, looking him up and down. "You're like my little bro! I wanna know how it went!"

Michael still can't form complete thoughts, just keeps gaping and blinking. "I…I…"

Aaron shakes his head. "I'm just concerned. C'mon. Gimme the basics."

Michael's skin burns, but he forces his eyes up to Aaron's. "Are you seriously asking me to talk about sex with you, Ronnie?"

Aaron rolls his eyes. "Well, duh. I'm bored to death with planning and taking care of you brats, and there's nothing else to do. So, spill."

Michael's just on the edge of freaking out. "If…" he grits his teeth, "Note really fucking carefully the _if_ , I tell you anything, you need to swear on your balls that you will never, ever, _ever_ tell anyone. EVER."

Aaron holds out his pinky. "I swear." 

Michael closes his eyes, mustering all his dignity. "Okay, shoot."

After he grudgingly describes what happened to Aaron in as little detail as possible, he looks up at Aaron and blushes again. "What?" Aaron's face looks funny.

"Ah…" He seems far away. "You guys are so cute."

Michael smiles, embarrassed, and slaps at Aaron's arm. "Shaddup."

"No, really." Aaron turns to look back at Michael, pouting. "I can't believe you two didn't tell me, though."

Michael looks away. "Well, like…I didn't want to make it awkward or anything."

Aaron snorts. "You two are already awkward enough."

Michael just grins. "Yeah, I guess we are."

There's some silence, and when Aaron speaks, his tone is serious. "But, Michael."

Michael looks up. "Yeah?"

"I want…" Aaron sighs. "I want you to take good care of him, you hear me?"

Michael feels something catch in his throat. "I will."

"I'm serious, and I know that I've said this probably way too much, but it's true. He needs you, Michael." Aaron's expression is unreadable, but Michael feels like he has to listen. "And don't…don't you dare ever leave him alone. Never leave him. You need to promise me that."

Michael smiles. "You know I won't."

"Good." 

There's more silence, then Aaron clears his throat, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"The Underground?"

All Michael remembers is the gritty smell of the subway, and too-bright lights shining above him. Ryan's scent, with a metallic edge to it, and his voice. Michael only recalls snatches of what Ryan was saying, stuff like, "Hands behind your back" and "You asked for it". He knows he was really sick, at his worst at the time, and he passed out before they actually got anywhere.

"I don't, actually."

Aaron smiles, flipping a pencil around between his fingers. "Well, you were sick as all fuck, and Ryan basically carried you in. He…" Aaron shakes his head, laughing. "He had this giant M16, and he pointed that motherfucker at me and he said, 'Hands on your head!" 

Michael grins. Typical Ryan. "You serious?"

"Dead. And then I was all like, 'Okay, shoot me,' and he's like, 'You asked for it, poop face.' "

"He called you that?!"

"Yeah, and when he tried to shoot, the thing wasn't even loaded. Hilarious. But then you passed out, and he…" Aaron stops laughing. "Well, he started crying, and then _I_ had to get down and cheer him up and lug your dead weight all the way back to the main offices."

Michael blushes. "That's what happened? You've never told me about that before." He frowns. "And no, I was like, twenty fucking pounds. Don't lie."

"Whatever, dude. But then Jason saw you and that he did his thing. And you're still here, you awkward, puberty-plagued, gay-as-fuck adolescent, and I have to deal with your ass every day. Ridiculous." Aaron shakes his head, and Michael cracks up. "I should be getting paid."

"I'm not that bad…"

"Don't even. When you have Ryan's babies or whatever, you'll understand just how much guys are capable of eating. I swear."

"In case you weren't aware of the fact, I can't get pregnant." Michael giggles, kicking Aaron's knee. Aaron can always make him laugh with all his retarded-ass comments about life in general.

"Whatevs." Aaron rolls his eyes. "Now, leave. I'm stressed."

"You were the one who wanted to gossip in the first place…"

"Yeah, well, meh. More pressing matters. I think we're gonna do Chicago next week."

Michael gets up, shaking his head. "See ya, then."

"Later. Oh, and Michael?"

Michael looks back. 

"You'd better keep that promise."

Michael smiles. "I will."

 

 

Later that day, he walks into the commons station to find his team, but Michael know immediately that something's wrong. Even Nathan doesn't smile at him when he looks up, and for that to happen, there's gotta be something seriously off. 

"Hey." He tries, sitting down next to Ricky, who is finally able to move freely. Ricky just nods at him and goes back to fiddling with the bandage poking out from under his shirt.

"Um…guys?" Michael says quietly, and everyone slowly looks up at him. It's kind of intimidating. "What's up?"

Matt lets out a small cough, and Cullen clears his throat. "Mikey…it's…" He sighs. "We're not feeling too great about the next raid."

Michael laughs nervously. "Yeah, I'm not either." He pauses, but his team is looking down now, and he notices that Ryan isn't there. "Sooo…what's up?"

Nathan sighs. "Mike…we're just not…" He looks up at Michael, his eyes unreadable. "We're just not feeling up to it. When Conor got shot, that was bad. We thought maybe things would get better. But when you got captured, and you…" Nathan shudders. "You barely made it, MP. And this just all seems pointless if we're all going to keep getting hurt like this. Washington's too strong."

Michael feels something like anger inside him. "So, what…are you trying to say?"

"My point is…" Nathan begins, but then Ryan walks into the station.

"'Sup, y'all?" He says, then pauses when Michael shoots him a look. Ryan goes to sit quietly on a bench next to Conor, who doesn't seem to be able to meet his eyes.

"Continue." Michael stands up, but he closes his eyes. "No, actually. I think I get it. You're saying that this whole thing is pointless."

Nathan looks down. Michael's not exactly angry, but he feels…betrayed, somehow. 

"Well, you're wrong. Are you expecting me to…to accept that ten fucking years of fighting my ass off is all pointless? Are you?!" Michael spits, pacing. "Guess what. I don't fucking think so. And you need to see that."

Nathan stands, walking up to him. "Mike, we're not- "

"Oh, yes you fucking are. You've been through just as much as I have. Your mother died, and she took your siblings with her. How did that feel, huh?" Michael snarls, but immediately regrets it as Nathan's eyes widen. He's supposed to be convincing them that they should stick this out, no matter what, not hurt them. "Nathan." He says, breathing deeply. "All of you."

"Look at us. We don't fucking have parents. Ryan and I lived off stale supermarket food and water for a month before we finally cracked and came to the Underground. We have no one to turn to except each other if something goes wrong. And…" He looks at his team in the eyes, lingering on Ryan, who's looking kind of taken aback at this unusual display. "And I love all of you. I never want you to get hurt. I want you to remember that."

Conor nods, going and putting an arm around Michael. "We know. We just don't want to repeat what happened last time."

"I know you don't." Michael smiles at Conor. "But I'm going to tell you now that you can't think like that. Not now, when we're so fucking close I can taste it."

"I hear you saying you don't want to do this anymore, and you know what, fuck that. I don't give a fuck if I die, because I'm sure as hell going to die trying. And I sure as fuck hope you guys will. And don't any of you dare say that this whole thing is pointless, because that's just fucking wrong. I want to know what your definition of pointless is, because mine and yours sure don't match up."

Michael takes a deep breath. He's got their full attention now. "I want you to live past this. I want to be with you guys for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with all of you, and I want to be eighty years old and sitting around a card table with you and be talking about the glory days, when we led a revolution. Because I love you, and we've been through so much. And I'm sorry that our parents haven't been around to see us."

"But I think there's something you guys don't see. I need…" He swallows. "I need you. I need you to help me through this, help each other through it. Aaron needs us. The Underground needs us. Jason needs us."

"Guys, I can't do this without you. And if you back out now, I'll be lost."

Michael takes a deep breath and looks at them, eyes focusing in on Ryan, smiling and leaning forward. "So…who's with me?"

There's silence, then Matt gets up and clasps Michael's shoulder.

"Michael." He says in his deep voice. "We're not going to abandon you, if that's what you were wondering."

Michael grins, looking to the rest of the team. "Thanks, Grevers."

Cullen and Ricky get up and Cullen puts an arm around his shoulders. "And we're not going to let you down again. Hell, who do you think we are?"

"Well, you can't just go around saying that the past ten years has been wasted."

"I know. We're sorry." Nathan says quietly. "We just…couldn't stand seeing you and Ricky get hurt, and that just got to us this time. We weren't thinking. Sorry."

Michael smiles, pulling Nathan into a hug. "Don't be. I wasn't so keen on it either."

Nathan grins back, and Michael knows that the issue's resolved. 

"So, we good now, guys?" He asks, and they nod. 

"Sorry, MP." Ricky mumbles, and Michael rolls his eyes, ruffling his hair.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't scare me like that again." 

Michael glances over at Ryan, blushing. Ryan grins and just gives him a thumbs-up. "Yeah…" He mutters, pulling away. "But, I, uh…I have to tell you guys something."

He looks at Ryan again, and Michael can feel something unsaid pass between them. Cullen catches it and his eyes follow Michael's.

"What?"

Michael takes a deep breath, not taking his eyes off Ryan. Ryan gets up, going over to stand by Michael's side and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Um…" Michael blushes again and squirms slightly, but Ryan takes over for him.

"Guys." Ryan says quietly, and Michael can feel the side of him that's touching Ryan heat up, and his skin start to prickle. Ryan's been having that effect on him for a while now. "Michael and I…"

"Cough." Nathan says under his breath, and Conor shoots him a look. 

"Go on, Ryan."

"Michael and I…" Ryan flushes, choking slightly. 

Michael decides to help him out, because Ryan's never been good at explaining complicated things like the subject at hand. He looks over at Ryan and meets his eyes. "Ryan and I are…" He smiles slightly.

"Ryan and I are-"

Then, of course, Cullen comes to the rescue.

"You've professed your undying love for each other then fucked twice in twenty-four hours. Yeah, old news." Cullen yawns, grinning, as Michael and Ryan stare at him.

"The fuck?" Michael says, jaw slack, and Ryan just blinks.

"Well…" Cullen starts to look a little guilty. "Um, the walls of the Underground aren't exactly, um, thin, if you get my, uh, drift…"  
"So you decided to listen." Ryan manages, voice scratchy.

"Well, it's not like we _wanted_ to, but…" Cullen says sheepishly, looking away. "Um, y'all were kind of making a racket, and it's hard to, like, ignore it and shit, so…uh…" He sighs. "Please don't accuse us of voyeurism. Seriously."

"But…but…" Michael hears himself say. "But…"

"Well, at least it's less awkward! Think about it that way!" Nathan tells him, setting an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "And besides, we'd known all along that this would happen."

Michael wonders why he's getting the distinct vibe that everyone else had seen him and Ryan for years, but didn't bother to tell them. "Um." He bites his lip, suddenly trying not to laugh. "Well, this wasn't exactly the way we'd, uh…planned it, but I guess…" His eyes widen. "Wait a minute."

It's finally sunk in.

"You…you listened to us?"

Nathan shrinks back, next to Matt. "Well, let's all just calm down." He gulps as Michael detaches himself from under Ryan's arm, advancing toward him. "You guys were, like, screaming, and it was midnight, and I thought someone was like, being murdered, and I woke the guys up and…" 

Michael can feel the flames stretching out from his eyes. "YOU. WOKE THEM. UP."

Nathan lets out a little squeak. "No! It wasn't like that! And I mean, there was nothing else to do, so, I mean, I mean…" He trails off, eyes darting toward the exit. 

A maniacal grin spreads across Michael's face. "Oh, don't worry, Nathan."

Nathan backs toward the curtain. "Mike…calm down…"

"I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE TO BE MURDERED, ADRIAN!" Michael roars, and Nathan screeches, turning and dashing out of the room. Michael follows him, the two of them disappearing out into the train tunnel, with Michael's screams echoing. "I WILL END YOU, YOU LITTLE PUNKASS, WHY YOU…" 

Ryan is left standing, still dumbfounded, and Matt pats his shoulder.

"Sorry, Loch. It was, like…" Matt shakes his head. "I didn't start it, okay."

Ryan closes his mouth and stares down the tunnel, where he can still hear Nathan's shrieks of terror and Michael's bull-like bellows of "GET THE FUCK BACK HERE, NATHAN GHAR-JUN ADRIAN, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU-" and etc.

He raises his eyebrows, sighing. "And he says _I_ have anger management problems."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming out!chapter. There had to be some sort of (useless) conflict…so. There you have it.  
> The title of this chapter is from East Jesus Nowhere. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vt3nXyuXNM  
> I really love this band. Like, in an unhealthy way. Oh well.


	19. You and I

That night, Ryan heads back to his room to find Michael already in there, sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep.

Ryan smiles, going to the side of the bed to sit next to Michael and rubbing a hand through his hair. Michael mutters something and turns over, one eye cracking open. 

"Hey, kid." Ryan says quietly. Michael groans and bats at his hand. 

"Why the…"

"Nothing. Just checking to make sure you were, y'know, alive and shit."

"Oh."

Ryan sighs, thoughts of the coming attack filling his mind. 

He feels a deep pit of dread form in his stomach as he realizes that it may be their last.

"Michael." Ryan breathes, suddenly forgetting how to function. 

"What?" Michael sits up, looking worried. Ryan stares at him. 

It's the realization that he and Michael might die in twenty four hours. That's what's stopping his heart at the moment.

"Michael, c'mere." Ryan mutters, feeling vulnerable. Michael frowns, moving closer, and Ryan immediately crushes him in his arms.  
"Ry…" Michael laughs, squirming, but Ryan just buries his face in Michael's shoulder and refuses to let him go. 

Partly it's because it seems like he can't even look at Michael without doing that anymore, but it's also something else.

It's the fear that he's going to lose Michael tomorrow.

Eventually, he pulls away and grabs onto Michael's shoulders. "Michael, look at me."

Michael's eyes are wide as he looks up, and Ryan takes a deep breath.

"Michael…this, like, thing. It's, um…it's the big one."

Michael nods, and Ryan lets his hands drop, taking on of Michael's between his own and lacing their fingers together.

"And…" He sighs. He doesn't even know how to go about this. 

He wants to make Michael promise that he isn't going to do something stupid, something irrational. Something that could get him killed. He wants Michael to promise that he'll always be there when he wakes up in the morning. Ryan wants Michael to promise that he'll be with him forever.

But inside, he knows that that in itself is nearly impossible.

Michael looks down.

"Ryan, I know what you're going to say."

Ryan rubs over the back of Michael's hand with his thumb. "Yeah?"

"All about me dying and stuff." Michael says. "And what's going to happen if I do."

Ryan's breath catches, and he suddenly feels angry, squeezing Michael's hand tightly. "Don't you dare say that. Don't you dare fucking say that."

Michael's silent, and Ryan feels the dread in his stomach deepen.

"Michael, I didn't…after what happened last time…" He sighs heavily, wrapping his arms back around Michael and pulling him closer. Michael doesn't resist. "I just don't want to lose you."

Michael's still quiet, and Ryan continues, closing his eyes. "Michael, I don't want to…" He feels his voice rattle slightly. "I don't want to wake up one day and find that you're gone. And know that you're gone because of something stupid and horrible and something that I could have prevented."

Michael doesn't say anything, and Ryan feels his arms tighten. He sighs, rubbing up and down Michael's back.

"Do you think I'll do that to you?" Michael murmurs against Ryan's shoulder after a while.

Ryan breathes out, letting himself relax. "…No. I just want you to promise me." He goes for it. "That you're not going to leave me alone."

Michael shifts, pulling away and wrapping his arms around Ryan's neck. "Okay." He leans in and kisses Ryan's cheek, and Ryan lets his eyes slide closed. "I promise."

"Good." Ryan breathes.

He lies down on the pillows, pulling Michael with him. Michael settles in at his side, and Ryan finds himself listening unconsciously to his breathing. It's soothing, and Ryan tucks the blankets around them. "So, I was thinking about what's going to happen…after Chicago."

Michael nods, tracing his fingers along Ryan's chest. "Yeah. Actually, I was too."

Ryan blinks hard, because even though he made Michael swear, it still feels like it wasn't enough. "And, after this is all done…" He stops his hand's movement. "I want you to stay with me. I want you by my side."

"Dork." Michael rolls his eyes, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips that makes Ryan's heart stutter. "I already said that."  
"Michael, I mean for the rest of our lives."

It's done and said, and there's nothing Ryan can do now except close his eyes and wait for Michael. It just kind of slipped out, but Ryan knew it was going to happen sometime. And it did.

Michael sits up, looking down at Ryan. There's something in his eyes that makes Ryan want to just shut up and kiss him, while he still can.

"Yeah?" Michael whispers, and Ryan nods, frozen.

"I mean, not, like…" Ryan blushes furiously. "Marriage or anything. I don't even know if that's going to exist. But I…" He smiles then, reaching up and touching Michael's cheek. "I want you with me. I want to watch you grow, and I want you to be proud of me. I want you to be happy. You've always been with me, and I…never want that to change." 

Michael looks like he can't speak, and Ryan pulls him down to his chest, letting the tips of their noses brush. "I want to fucking die with you. Because, Michael, I can't even fucking imagine…" Ryan feels his voice crack. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it. That's what you've done to me."

He hears Michael's breaths in his ear, and Ryan grips onto Michael's arms before he can fall. Michael lifts his head up, looking into Ryan's eyes, and Ryan holds his breath.

"Okay. " Michael breathes, and Ryan makes a small noise and yanks him forward, pressing their lips together, because Michael has just made his fucking dreams come true. Michael's mouth opens, and Ryan slips his tongue in, pulling away between kisses. "I…" He bends his neck to nip at Michael's throat, kissing his way back up to the corner of Michael's mouth. "Love you."

"I love you too, Ry." Michael makes a soft sound as Ryan nibbles his ear. "I love you, Ry." He repeats, softer this time, and Ryan stops, caught by the tone of Michael's voice.

"So, it's good, then, yeah?" He asks, running his hands down Michael's sides. Ryan pushes him down on the mattress and rolls on top of him, just because he can.

Michael lets out a little sigh as Ryan kisses his neck gently. "We're all good."

Ryan lets his head drop to Michael's shoulder, just noticing all the bare skin. "Showered." Michael says by way of explanation. 

Ryan presses a kiss to Michael's collarbone, and is rewarded with a soft sound. "Thanks. You stank." But he doesn't feel like starting anything at the moment. 

"Oh, shut up, douche." Michael snorts, rubbing his hand through Ryan's hair. "I'm revoking my guarantee."

"Yeah, I don't think so." Ryan wraps his arm around Michael and scoots up, kissing Michael's forehead. "Let's get some sleep."

"Okay." Michael murmurs, and Ryan sees his eyes start to close.

Ryan waits a minute, until he's sure that Michael's asleep. He moves forward, letting his eyes travel over Michael's face. Ryan brings his hand up and runs the back of it across Michael's cheek, memorizing the surface. 

Ryan leans in and kisses Michael, and he's only half-surprised when Michael kisses back, apparently not quite asleep yet.

Ryan laughs and drops his head back down, reaching his hand down and lacing his fingers with Michael's.

"See you in the morning, MP."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I think I may need to start writing fanfic about fanfic because smellyleaf's dive is seriously just art. The Phlochte Pheels. I'm gonna start adding Ph onto everything that starts with an f…  
> Hope I'm doing okay so far, cuz we're almost at the END. O___O Maybe not almost, but getting there…thank you for reading everyone!  
> Oh and you guys I have a question: should I make a tumblr? Just for like notifications and phlochte stuff…i feel like i'd be some noob with one follower though…just need your input. It does sound pretty fun though.  
> This chapter title is from 21 Guns.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r00ikilDxW4


	20. Do You Know What's Worth Fighting For?

Three days later, they're holed up in the enclosed back hatch of a local farmer's truck, antsy and on their toes.

They'd hitched a ride with a farmer who had lately been on good trading terms with the Underground, and convinced him to let the Team B and their medics take a second truck, a beaten-up red monstrosity that no one ever would look twice at. But that will come in handy as they approach the borderline security of the Revival's Chicago base.

The team has successfully maintained a low decibel level through the entire nerve-wracking drive, an hour-long stretch of nail-biting and hisses of "Shut up!" Aaron's explained that their strategy will be simple: break in and kill whatever you see. Then, as they neared the perimeter of Chicago, Aaron told the guy to stop and let them out just at the outer edges of Millennium Parkway, at the Magmile. The guards didn't start appearing until the further reaches of the city, around the Sears Tower.

"Quickly." He mutters, and they obey, filing out the back of the truck quietly and taking cover behind a ruined bank, its vaults' contents spilling out from the sides of the building and into the streets. 

Ryan keeps a hand on Michael's back as they settle against the far wall, Aaron joining them. He watches the Team B truck turn around and drive off south, having been instructed to set up a makeshift hospital there.

"Alright, boys." Aaron says under his breath. "We're going to keep this as short as possible. I've divided you up into units." They nod.

"Matt and Conor, you're going to be looking for Jason. The moment you find him, I don't care what happens, you get him _out_. Got it?"

Matt nods, shifting his massive AK-47 on his back. "Got it."

"Cullen, Ricky, and Nathan, you'll be holding down the front with me. Team B will be here as soon as possible, and that'll give us good reinforcement."

"Good…" Ricky snickers, but is silenced with a look from Aaron.

"So. Michael and Ryan, you two need to get to Washington. And you need to search the area where he is." Aaron looks up at them.

"Um…" Ryan frowns. "Not to like, kill it, but why exactly?"

"Yeah, I didn't tell you this." Aaron grimaces. He puts a hand on Michael and Ryan's shoulders.

"Jason only fed me this information before he was captured, and I didn't want you to know until now. But…" He closes his eyes. "Apparently, through all this time…there's been a kill code. For the Revival."

Ryan raises his eyebrows. "Kill code?"

"To shut them all down. The problem is, well, a: we don't know what it is, b: the machine where you plug it in is at the heart of the base. It's bound to be impossible to get to."

Ryan takes a breath. All this time…and now a machine to shut all the machines off. 

He has an actual hope that maybe this will all work out, that somehow, they'll get Jason back, and they'll get to the computer and obliterate the Revival forever. That he and Michael just might survive together.

Ryan prays, for the first time in a long time, that this hope will become reality.

 

 

"Hundred-meter mark." Aaron mutters, motioning them behind a bank.

They've snuck past a few lone perimeter guards, and one heart-pounding time, almost ran headlong into a pack. Ryan's heart still hasn't quite calmed down since then.

"Take the east side." Aaron says calmly, guiding them around the bank and pointing to the back entrance of the tower. "There's going to be less guards there." 

As they approach the entrance, Ryan suddenly feels the familiar pit of dread appear in his stomach. He zones out as Aaron tells them the strategy, the panic starting to ring in his ears.

Then Michael's clear voice cuts through the haze, bringing him back to earth.

"Ry."

Ryan looks over at him, and in Michael's eyes, he can see everything and anything he's ever wanted to see. In them lie the ghosts of their parents, the ruins of Detroit, the Underground. He sees himself, reflected back in the cold gray light.

Ryan grabs Michael and kisses him.

Michael doesn't resist, just lets his eyes slide closed and his arms wrap around Ryan's neck, and Ryan kisses him like they're going to die that day, and they just might. But at least he'll have kissed Michael one last time.

When he pulls away, Michael blushes and hugs Ryan closer. Ryan breathes deeply, trying to regain control of his breaths, but all he feels is Michael.

"I love you." He mutters, having the sick thought that if someone is going to kill Michael, it should be him. He doesn't want anyone else to have the last moments of Michael's life for themselves.

But he pushes that away and tries to convince himself that they're going to live.

"Love you too." Michael kisses his cheek and pulls away, some expression in his eyes that wasn't there before. 

There's a soft clapping sound from Aaron's direction, and Ryan blushes, looking away.

Aaron just shakes his head and motions to the door. "Get in there."

 

 

Matt easily takes down the three guards at the entrance. Nathan does his usual explosive check, and successfully dismantles an authorized passcode box with some skillful hacking and a guard's retinal scan.

Ryan feels his breath catch as soon as they enter, the building eerily silent. 

But then a sentry rounds the corner and screams something unintelligible into his walkie-talkie, and Ryan feels the dread replaced with anger. They're immediately flooded with rounds of gunshots that seem to come out of nowhere, tearing up the floors and walls. A whole mob of Revival come dashing around the corner, and Aaron screams something in Ryan's ear.

"TAKE MICHAEL AND GO!"

Ryan whips his head around to see Matt and Conor heading up the nearest stairwell, but Michael is lost in the se of bullets flying around. Ryan curses, running frantically behind a column to see Michael firing from behind it, Cullen backing him up.

"MICHAEL, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!" He roars, dashing up to Michael, wrapping his arms around him, and drags him into the stairwell behind Matt and Conor. Michael screams something about Cullen being overwhelmed, but Ryan doesn't listen, just sets him down on the landing.

"We…have to look for Washington." He pants, grabbing Michael's hand.

Michael nods, taking a deep breath. "Floor by floor?"

Ryan grits his teeth. "Floor by floor."

Matt and Conor are already gone on their search for Jason, and Ryan wonders if the elevators are still working. No, too dangerous. There could still be security cameras in there.

He and Michael make it through 26 flights of stairs, following Aaron's instructions to get themselves as far away as possible before starting their search for Washington. They emerge, slightly out of breath, from the stairwell.

The Sears tower is filled with dark, empty offices, some with smashed windows and some completely bare. It's almost terrifying, to think of all the people who used to fill the space just…disappearing.

"Michael, cover my back." Ryan mutters, and Michael nods, taking up his position behind Ryan. They peer carefully into each office, with about thirty on every floor.

Ryan notices that they work almost perfectly together, a combination of subtlety and strength. Michael is so silent, sometimes Ryan has to look over his shoulder to make sure that he's still there. But when they come to a heavy barricade blocking off an office, the weight that Michael can't lift Ryan makes up for. 

There's a sound from the other end of the room, and the lights suddenly flicker. Michael claps a hand softly over Ryan's mouth, putting a finger to his lips. He starts to step toward where the noise came from, but Ryan's not about to let that happen.

"No." He mutters, pulling Michael back and yanking him down onto the floor.

Michael frowns. "Ry…"

Ryan shakes his head firmly. "I'm not letting you go out there."

Michael looks like he's about to protest, but Ryan just gets up and walks over to the other end of the room.

It turns out to be nothing, just the building's inner shift, probably, or a gunshot echoing from the floors below, but it still makes Ryan uneasy. 

"Okay." He says, and Michael rises from where they were crouched behind a cubicle.

Then there's a shot from behind him, and Ryan whips around just in time to see a Reviver ducking behind a desk. 

Michael is in between him and the guard, and Ryan's heart almost stops as he sees Michael turn and aim his rifle at it. With a sharp bang, the Revivers slumps over, but Ryan doesn't care about that right now.

"You stupid…" He mutters, stalking up to Michael and dragging him out of the office. "Michael, don't…" He grits his teeth, grasping Michael's shoulder. "Don't fucking scare me like that."

"I can handle myself." Michael says, raising an eyebrow. "Ry, I don't see why you're getting all worked up over- "

Ryan feels something like rage, but mixed with an intense pounding in his chest, build up inside him, and he squeezes Michael's shoulder harder, letting it all out.

"SHUT UP!" He yells, seeing red tinge the edges of his vision, and Michael's flinch burns into his vision. But Ryan doesn't care.

"Can't you see what…what fucking happens to me when you do that?!" He clenches his jaw, his other hand bunching up into a fist. Michael's eyes are wide, and he looks like he's about to bolt any second. 

"Ry…what…" Michael whispers, looking around them, but Ryan raises a hand to Michael's cheek and forces Michael to look at him.

"Look at me! Don't you see what you've done to me?" He grits, verging on desperation. Ryan doesn't know what's gotten into him. "Michael…" Ryan hears his voice crack. 

"Ryan, I can handle myself."

"NO!" Ryan yells, and suddenly he's gripping Michael's shoulders, shaking him. "You don't understand!" He feels the anger building up and up until it all just spills out of him. "I CAN'T LOSE YOU AGAIN!" He screams at Michael, trying to get across what he can't explain.

Ryan lets his forehead drop to the crook of Michael's neck, feeling like he's about to cry. "I can't lose you again."

Michael's silent for so long afterward. Ryan lifts his head, and he looks pleadingly at Michael, whose eyes are wide and almost unresponsive looking. "Michael." He murmurs, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. "You _can_ take care of yourself. I know that. I just can't…see you get hurt. I don't think you get how much…"

Ryan relaxes when he feels the familiar, gentle touch of Michael's fingers in his hair.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I am." Ryan mutters, pulling away. "I shouldn't get so- "

But then there's the soft press of Michael's lips to his, and Ryan decides to just shut up and feel. 

Michael lets go of him, and Ryan reluctantly follows suit, catching Michael's hand in his own. "Don't worry, dork. I'm gonna be safe."

Ryan closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. 

"I know…" He squeezes Michael's hand. "I know you are." He takes a deep breath, flushing. "And I…promised that I'd keep you that way. So I will."

Michael kisses him again, and Ryan finds himself wishing they could just stay like that forever.

They continue moving through the floors, and Ryan makes sure to stay close to Michael's side. They run into a few guards, but Ryan quickly disposes of them.

They come to a floor with only a long, stark white hallway stretching out in front of them leading only to a battered doorway, chunks of wood falling out of it. Ryan's breath catches in his throat, and he laces his fingers with Michael's again.

"I think this is it." He breathes, and Michael gives the most imperceptible of nods. 

"I think it is."

They walk together, their footsteps sounding like crashes in the silence and their breathing like pants. Ryan tightens his grip on Michael's hand and tries to calm his heart.

Ryan and Michael reach the door, and its handle, at the same time.

Ryan looks at Michael, who looks back into his eyes.

"Ready?" Ryan breathes, and Michael nods, not taking his gaze off of Ryan.

"We're ready."

Ryan knows that they are.

They turn the handle together.

 

 

"So you've finally made it!"

Washington sits on a leather chair in the center of the room, illuminated by a sort of spotlight. Everything around them is pitch black, and Ryan puts a hand protectively on Michael's lower back. Everything and anything could go wrong now.

"Welcome." Washington says, beckoning them forward, and its like an invisible iron rope fastens around them and drags them forward. It's horrible to realize just how commanding Washington can be, but Ryan can't let it get to him. Something is…strange about Washington. He can't quite put his finger on it.

"Hey." Ryan answers cockily. 

Washington sneers, the expression like pure ice. "Hello, Ryan. I see you've brought your dear, dear Michael with you, as well."

"Shut the fuck up." Ryan grits, holding Michael closer. He can feel Michael's heartbeat even through their clothes. "You don't know anything."

"Oh, but I do." Washington laughs. Ryan knows he's going to start playing head games with them. "I'm going to be doing you a favor when I shoot his heart out, you know."

"Fuck you." Ryan spits. "I'll be doing you a favor when I'm blasting through your computerized brain, you fucking robot."

Washington just smirks. "Oh, you will, now?"

"Fuck yes. You wouldn't know anything."

"Love could only ruin you, Ryan. Especially with this boy."

Ryan feels himself becoming enraged, but there's a soft touch to his arm from Michael.

"How would you know?" Michael says quietly, stepping forward.

"How would I know what, Michael?" Washington simpers, and Ryan puts a cautionary hand on Michael's wrist. Michael just brushes it away.

"What love is like." Michael answers, his voice low and deliberate. 

"I wouldn't care in the first place. Love is for children like you, to live out in your little fantasies. It doesn't exist." Washington smiles. "For machines such as myself, we have no hearts. We don't know emotion, and we don't care to."

"Exactly." Michael murmurs, taking another step forward, and Ryan wants to ask him what the fuck he's doing, but he stays quiet. "But don't you ever want to know what it's like?"

Michael's dangerously close to Washington now, and Ryan feels like he's rooted to the spot. Washington scoffs, but Michael keeps going.

"I can show you, you know." Michael whispers, walking right up to Washington's chair. "What it feels like."

Washington raises an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

"It must be so lonely." Michael says, and Ryan's horrified to see Michael raise his hand and run it gently over Washington's cheek. Maybe it's his imagination, but Ryan sees Washington's motorized eyelids flutter a little. "I know you are. To be by yourself like that, for all those years. With no one to turn to but the people who created you, who ended up being traitors. I understand."

Michael trails his hand down to take Washington's, pulling him off the chair. "Just let me show you." Ryan can barely make out his whisper as Michael wraps an arm around the back of Washington's neck, looking up at him. 

"Let me show you." Michael whispers again, leaning in.

Ryan feels his chest tighten as Michael's lips brush against Washington's cheek, but he lets out a silent breath as he sees Michael's free hand traveling down his leg, fingers slipping around the handle of the knife in his pocket.

Washington's made the mistake of closing his eyes, but Ryan feels terror spike in his chest as Washington grabs Michael's wrist, a cruel smile spreading across his pale face.

"Not so fast."

Michael gasps as Washington twists his wrist, but he's not helpless. He swivels and uses the force to rip the knife out of his boot with the other hand.

The blade drives into Washington's chest.

And goes right through it, clattering to the ground on the other side.

In that split second, Ryan realizes it's a trap. That whatever looks like Washington is not Washington. That everything in the room isn't what it is.

But it's too late.

All Ryan hears is Washington's cold laugh, and his voice echoing throughout the room. "Did you think it would be that easy?"

Ryan feels his stomach plummet, and he lunges forward, reaching out for Michael. The lights in the room click on, and they're surrounded by Revival, all with fully loaded guns.

Ryan reacts the way he's been trained to react. He throws himself down on top of Michael as they drop to the ground, the first round of bullets just missing their backs. He immediately drags Michael toward the door, and by some miracle, they make it out, but the Revivers aren't far behind. A bullet whizzes past his head, and Ryan forces himself to look for a possible exit as he races down the hallway, taking advantage of the darkness. He takes Michael behind the corner of an office wall, his heart beating too fast. 

Michael looks like he's about to hyperventilate, the most uncontrolled Ryan's ever seen him. 

"Ry, let's go, let's just go fucking get them." Michael gasps, clutching onto Ryan's arm and pulling them against the wall as the Revivers fumble blindly in the dark. Ryan can almost smell their metal cogs burning and grinding as they search for their targets.  
He can't do anything but agree. "I promised we'd get out of here alive today."

Michael nods, and it's like the entire room suddenly drops to freezing. Ryan grabs Michael's hand and rubs it between his own. He can see vapor from his breath dissipating in the air. "Ry, we have to…"

"Michael, I am so fucking in love with you, you don't even understand." Ryan says, a little disoriented. "So let's just go."

He sees Michael's smile spread over his face, teeth white in the dim dark, and if Ryan could make the Revival see how beautiful that is, they'd think twice.

He lets go of Michael's hand. "On three."

At the count, they burst out from their hiding place, and the rest is just bullets flying and gunshots exploding. Only once does Ryan look over at Michael. Somehow, Ryan gets his bearings, and realizes that they're actually both fine. That they're beating the Revivers back. 

He lets out a roar and surges forward, a shot of adrenaline propelling him. The metallic screams of the cyborgs only fuel him more, and when the dust from the shooting clears, Ryan knows that all of them are dead.

He shakily wraps an arm around Michael, who is staring at the wreckage like he can't believe what they just did.

And in a way, it's almost impossible.

They look back toward the door, and behind it, they know the real Washington's waiting. That this was only a distraction. Ryan knows that Washington thought they would be killed by his soldiers.

How fucking wrong he was. 

Ryan opens what's left of the door, the scraps of wood falling off the hinges. He takes Michael's hand and leads them through.  
At the other end of the room, Washington sits slumped on the floor, bleeding shining red blood from his shoulder. One of the only Revivers without metallic silver fluid leaking out of him. He looks beaten down, almost ready to give up. But they can't be too cautious.

Ryan crosses the room in three strides, Michael next to him, and kicks Washington in the side. Washington lets out a grunt and rolls over, trying desperately to get away, but Michael pins him in place with the toe of his boot. 

"Give us the code. Now." Michael demands, digging his boot into the skin of Washington's neck. Washington tries to laugh, but he makes a choking sound as Michael presses his weight fully down.

"You motherfucker, just give it up." Ryan hisses, getting down onto his knees to look Washington in the eyes. They're cold and grey, like they're already losing their power. "You're cornered. Now tell us."

Ryan holds his breath, motioning for Michael to come closer as Washington opens his mouth.

Leaning up, Washington tells them the code, motioning behind him to where the machine is.

Ryan gets up, not bothering to say anything else. He takes Michael's hand, but Michael's looking down at Washington with this expression in his eyes that almost frightens Ryan. It's pure hatred.

Before he knows it, there's a swish, Michael's knife is plunged into the right side of Washington's chest, where his artificial heart beats. 

"That's for our parents, you motherfucker." Michael whispers, choking over the words, and Ryan kneels next to him. Michael lets out a small sob as Washington's skin stains red around his blade, and he twists the knife in deeper, muttering unintelligible words under his breath. 

"Michael…" Ryan murmurs, sliding an arm around Michael's shoulders, but Michael just shudders and pulls the knife back out, only to drive it in again. He keeps doing this, and Ryan feels like his heart is about to break. He wraps his arms around Michael and pulls him up, away from Washington's still-twitching body, and Michael buries his face in Ryan's neck, chest heaving as the sobs rack his body.

"He's gone, Michael." Ryan whispers, holding Michael closer and staring at Washington's crumpled body, blood pooling around it. "He's gone."

Michael seems to calm down, and he runs his hand down Ryan's arm, fingers catching in the tattered fabric covering it. "I'm ready."

Ryan nods.

They both are.

Ryan and Michael walk together to the small room at the back, and in it, the blue light of the computer glows. As they enter, an automated voice says, "Deactivation code is required for access."

An electronic number pad pops up on the screen.

Ryan looks over at Michael, and Michael looks over at Ryan.

They enter the code together.

 

 

"Revival deactivation successful. Termination in effect immediately."

Ryan can't breathe, just settles for squeezing Michael's hand so hard he knows Michael can't feel it anymore. He turns Michael toward him.

"We did it." He breathes, bringing his other hand up to Michael's cheek.

"We did." Michael whispers, and Ryan lets out a disoriented laugh, his eyes wide.

"We did it." He whispers again, and he pulls Michael in, lips pressing to Michael's immediately.

The feel of his arms around Michael, and Michael gently leaning into him, is the only thing Ryan could want more than what they just did. And now he has it. He can have it forever.

They're free.

Then a sharp crack sounds from behind them, and Michael lets out a small cry before he falls to the ground. Ryan feels the panic bubble up in his chest.

"Michael!" He drops to his knees, horrified to see red bloom across Michael's chest, darkening the black fabric. Ryan whips his head around, and his fears are confirmed as he sees a gun falling limply out of Washington's hand. 

"Tell him that…that's what love is." Washington murmurs weakly, and before Ryan can get to him, he closes his eyes and lets his head drop to the ground. As if in time, Michael's head lolls in Ryan's arms, and Ryan can see the color draining from his face.

"Michael, oh my god, no, no, no- " Ryan's almost hysterical as he cradles Michael's head, desperately trying to raise his heart. He grits his teeth, lifting Michael up and dashing out of the room, heading for the stairs. More blood just keeps pouring out of Michael's chest, and everything's going wrong. Everything's going wrong.

As he races toward the ground floor, trying to get to Aaron, trying to get them out, Ryan's promise flashes through his mind, still fresh after ten years.

_"I'm always gonna be here for you."_

If Ryan closes his eyes, feeling Michael's blood soak the front of his shirt as he nears the ground, he can still imagine Michael's smile. 

_"Okay. And I'll always…be there for you. Okay?"_

_"That's it, Mikey."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr is: dietphochtedew.tumblr.com…please don't mock my sad username. Will be used for updates and reblogging whatever I see  
> Chapter title from 21 Guns.
> 
>  
> 
> _Do you know what's worth fighting for_  
>  _When it's not worth dying for_  
>  _Does it take your breath away_  
>  _And you feel yourself suffocating_


	21. American Eulogy

Ryan looks out at the wreckage spread out in the landscape before him, the demolished building that was once the Sears tower, and tries not to cry.

As soon as he brings Michael onto the main floor, Ryan knows something's wrong. It's eerily quiet, the dead bodies of Revivers littering the floors, metallic blood splattering the walls. He runs outside, Michael's own warm blood covering him, and finds his team bent over someone.

"Guys." Ryan gasps, being as gentle as he can. "Michael." 

"Oh god." Nathan mutters, reaching for Michael. Ryan hesitates before letting Nathan take Michael from his arms, and Nathan pulls out a small needle. "This is a simple painkiller-sedative combination. He's going to be knocked out for a while." 

Ryan lest himself breathe a little, but not for long. He hears a small whimpering coming from Conor, and he tears himself away from Michael and Nathan long enough to focus. In the corner of his eye, he sees a member of Team B come and take Michael away. Ryan tries to stop them, muttering something under his breath that he can't even decipher, but Nathan wraps a long arm around him and leads him away from them. Ryan doesn't feel strong enough to resist, and he lets his head hang. But he immediately regrets it.

"Conor…what…" He gasps as he see who's lying on the ground.

"Oh god."

Aaron's body is covered in splotches of red, soaking through and staining the ground under him. He's barely even alive, his breaths coming in barely audible, shallow intakes of air.

"Aaron." Ryan whispers, sinking to his knees. Cullen puts out a hand to steady him, but it's shaking. They've never seen Aaron wounded this badly before.

"Did you…get Jason…" Aaron mutters, and Matt nods, his eyes looking like they're starting to water.

"He's safe. He's with Team B."

"…Good." 

Aaron manages a small smile, gritting his teeth as his wounds begin to take their toll. "Boys." 

He grabs onto Ryan's hand, and it's something that Ryan's never seen before. Aaron like this, so open. 

"I want you…" He coughs, and blood appears at the corners of his mouth. Ryan feels something in his chest snap. He's known Aaron for so long that this is affecting him just as much as Michael did.

"I want you to know that I am so proud of all of you."

Ryan can't stand this. "Aaron, stop, medical team's gonna be here any minute, and they'll- "

"Ryan." Aaron smiles, squeezing his hand. "It doesn't matter."

Ryan falls silent, and Nathan puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Cullen. You've grown so much. When you got here, you were…twelve, was it?"

Cullen nods, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. 

"Look at you now. You're a man. Although, of course, you could never compare to the great me." Aaron grins, and that signature mischievous light in his eyes starts to return. But Ryan knows that it's going to go out soon. "Nathan and Matt, when you two came here, you hated each other. You couldn't even talk without getting into a fistfight. Which, mind you, I always had to break up."

Nathan smiles, and he's crying as he nods, the tears falling down onto the dust. Matt puts an arm around him, his face grim. "I remember." 

Aaron coughs again, and it's more of a hack now, the sound echoing flatly through the ruins. "Ricky, you lost your family as you ran with them to the gates of the Underground. When you got in, you were so quiet, I thought you'd never find your voice again." He smiles up at Ricky. "And look at you now."

Ricky grimaces, his brow crinkling as he rubs the palm of his hand over his face. "Aaron…"

"Shut up, loudmouth." Aaron grins, mussing through Ricky's dark hair with his hand. But it's clear that the motion is painful for him. "Conor."

Conor's practically sobbing at this point, and Aaron laughs, breath rattling. "You're not a little kid anymore. And if these guys ever give you any grief, you know what to do."

Conor just nods and tries to catch his breath. Ryan rubs a hand up and down his back.

"And Ryan." 

Ryan looks down at Aaron, feeling his eyes start to well up. "Hey, Aaron."

Aaron smiles, letting his eyes close for a moment. "When I first saw you, you were carrying Michael into the Underground. You whipped a gun out, pointed it at me, and demanded that I shut up and do what I was told." He laughs weakly. "Of course, it wasn't even loaded."

Ryan feels a hot tear slip down his cheek, and he angrily brushes it away. "I…I actually remember doing that."

"Then you made me carry Michael all the way down to the medical station."

Ryan's eyes focus, and he can see that Aaron's eyes are watery. That just makes him cry harder, and he grips Conor's arm, searching for something to hold onto.

"You've all grown up. And I'm so, so proud of you. You led a revolution, and goddammit…" A tear slips out of Aaron's eye. "You won. You beat those fuckers. And I'm going to miss you so much."

Ryan hears a small sob from Conor, and he moves closer, trying to catch his own breath. "Aaron…"

"You all…" Aaron coughs again, and this time, a small trickle of blood leaks out of his mouth. "You all have so much in store for you. You're going to be so great. I know you are."

Nathan smiles, taking Aaron's other hand, which is shaking slightly. "Thanks, Aaron."

"You'd sure as hell better thank me." Aaron laughs, but the glint is starting to dim in his eyes. He smiles up at them, and Ryan knows that there's nothing they can do now. Aaron's made the decision.

"Take care of Jason for me, okay?" 

"We will." Cullen says quietly. "And Michael."

Aaron grins, closing his eyes. When he looks back up at them, his eyes are darkening. "And pull the U.S. back together. And build me a memorial."

Ryan smiles, feeling the ache in his chest intensify. "Of course."

"I expect gold columns, weekly sacrifices, and entire altars devoted to my awe-inspiring countenance." Aaron shudders, and the red blood stain spreads across his whole torso. "Guys…"

He looks up at them, his eyes unfocused. "I love you all. Tell Michael I love him."

Ryan knows he's really crying now, and his cheeks are stained with salty tears, but he doesn't care. "We will."

"I want you to know that I thought of you all as my sons." Aaron smiles, his breaths starting to become uneven. "And that's really…" He chokes a little, the blood spreading even more. "Precious to me."

Aaron lets out a sigh, a small smile at the corners of his mouth. "Well, boys…"

Ryan can't breathe now, and everything turns completely silent.

"I'll be seeing you around, then."

Then something fades from Aaron's blue eyes, and his chest halts its rising and falling. 

Nathan sniffles and tugs Matt over, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Ryan lets out a shaky breath, rubbing his face with the heel of his hand. It's silent for a long time.

"They're here." Nathan says quietly, his voice ragged.

Nodding, Ryan puts a hand on Nathan's shoulder. He can't look at Aaron anymore. "Don't leave his body."

They pick Aaron up as gently as they can and make their way to the medics, who have convinced the farmer to lend them a few more trucks. Michael is loaded into the back of one of them, passed out. The medics are desperately wrapping white gauze around his chest, trying to stop the flow of blood for long enough until they can get to the makeshift hospitals.

Ryan sees Jason sitting by the vans, his head in his hands.

"Ryan." He says quietly as Ryan goes to sit next to him. "Hey."

Ryan nods, drawing his knees up to his chest. "Hey, Jason." He gives Jason a quick hug, feeling too vulnerable for anything else. "They didn't beat you up too bad, did they?"

Jason manages a weak laugh. "It's kind of like they just forgot about me. But at one point, they weren't giving me food, so…" Jason's face darkens, and he looks over to where Aaron was lying.

"He's gone, isn't he?" 

It's not a question.

Ryan just puts a hand on Jason's shoulder and bites his lip, not knowing how to phrase it gently. "Yes."

Jason lets out a heavy sigh and scrubs his hand over his face, in an attempt to hide the tear on it. Ryan's not used to seeing him get emotional. "Ryan."

"Yeah?"

"Ride with Michael in the back. He's probably going to be waking up soon." Jason's voice is cracking.

"Yessir."

Jason looks at him for a while, and Ryan can tell that he knows about them. "You love that boy, don't you."

"I do." Ryan says without thinking.

"Go to him, then." Jason smiles grimly. "Don't lose him." 

"I won't." Ryan murmurs, hoping with all his heart that this is true.

He hears the rumble of the van's engine, and Jason motions him forward.

"Go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is the song American Eulogy. This cut on the CD is right after 21 Guns.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8nh_S2w3kI  
> And can I point out the 100 KUDOS! I LOVE ALL OF YOU.   
> Thanks everyone who's been reading this for so long.


	22. This Is Why We're On The Edge

Ten minutes of driving later, Michael wakes up. 

They're getting farther and farther away from the ruins of the Sears Tower, the more abandoned open highways stretching out in front of them, and Matt and Ricky are staying behind and taking care of the civilians trapped in the holding rooms. There's hundreds all over the city, all trapped in the buildings, and someone has to get them all out of there.

It hasn't entirely sunk in for Ryan that they've just destroyed the Revival, completely obliterated them, forever. It seems impossible, although he saw it happen before his own eyes. 

He's starting to get nervous again, as Michael starts to stir. Ryan's been changing the bandages as often as possible, but the blood just keep coming in these small, but regular waves. "Can't you go any fucking faster?" He snaps at the driver, some kid from Team B. He can't focus on them right now, all they did was "back up" and shoot randomly. Aaron is fucking dead, and Michael…

Michael lets out a small sound, and Ryan whips his head around to see Michael's brown eyes open a crack.

"Shit, Michael." He whispers, already going to work on the bandages. "Go back to sleep, shit, shit- "

"Ryan." Michael chokes, his voice so raspy that Ryan has to lean down to hear him. "What…" It looks like every breath is hurting him, and Ryan feels like he's about to throw up. 

"Hey, Michael." Ryan says quietly, applying as much pressure as he dares.

Michael's lips lift in what might be a smile. "We got 'em, didn't we, Ry?"

"We did." Michael grimaces, and Ryan starts to panic, hearing the ragged, drawn-out breaths Michael's taking. "Michael, does it- "  
"It hurts." Michael's chest heaves, and more blood leaks out. "It fucking hurts, Ry, it hurts, shit- "

"Oh god." Ryan desperately adds another layer of bandages. "Goddammit, Michael, you're not…" He grits his teeth, wiping his free hand across his eyes. "You're not going to fucking die on me."

Michael smiles weakly up at him, and its like his skin gets even paler in the dim light of the van's back seat. "Ry…" His expression turns pained, and a tear leaks out of the corner of his eye. "I love- "

"Shut up!" Ryan says, and when he raise a hand to his cheek, it comes back wet. "Shut up, Michael, and don't you dare start saying goodbye to me, dammit-"

"Ryan." Michael whispers, his voice sounding like it can't handle the strain. "I love you."

"Michael, shut the hell up!" 

Ryan's sobbing now, and the blood just keeps coming out, and he can't do anything, and he's never felt so completely helpless before. "You can't…" He takes a gasping breath, gripping Michael's hand so hard that it might be hurting him, but he doesn't care. "You can't leave me here, you promised me…"

Michael looks up at him, eyes dim, and the brown looks faded and washed out. "Ry…stop."

"Do you hear me?! You're not going to fucking leave me!" Ryan gets out, trying to control his jerking breaths. "I…Michael…"

"Ryan." Michael says with a little desperation in it. "Listen to me."

Ryan tries to calm himself down, not releasing Michael's hand.

"I…" Michael sighs, breath rattling in his chest. He brings his other hand up to Ryan's cheek, and the motion looks like it takes so much effort. "Come here, Ry."

Ryan shakily leans down, letting his hand rest in Michael's hair. Michael pulls him closer, and Ryan buries his face in Michael's shoulder, trying to stop his crying.

"You've stuck with me for so long." Michael whispers, hand rubbing down Ryan's neck and over his back. "For almost…almost my entire life."

Ryan nods against Michael's shoulder. He knows that if he opens his mouth, he's not going to be able to get anything out.

"I love you so much for that, Ryan." 

Ryan feels Michael's mouth stretch into a smile against his hair, and he lets out an angry, muffled sob into Michael's shoulder. "Stop it, stop it, stop- "

"I love you so much." Michael murmurs, the movement of his hand slowing down. "And it amazes me…" He lets out a ragged cough. "That you've been with me this long. And all those times where you got fucking wasted…" Michael laughs weakly. "I was so scared for you. But I stuck it out, because I love you."

Ryan pulls back, his chest tightening along with his hand on Michael's. Michael looks up at him, and it looks like his eyes aren't quite focusing right.

"You need to remember that, okay?"

Michael's eyes are still on him, and Ryan can't fucking take this anymore, the smell of Michael's blood, his uneven breathing, so similar to Aaron's, and the dying light in his eyes. 

"I'm going to die without you." Ryan whispers, moving closer and kissing Michael's cheek, with too much force. "God dammit, I'm going to die if you're not here. So don't even think about leaving me alone."

Michael smiles, letting out a raspy laugh that breaks Ryan's heart. "I won't."

"Is that a promise?"

When Michael doesn't answer right away, Ryan pulls back, dreading what he'll see.

Michael's expression is pained, his eyes clenched tightly shut. Blood has already soaked the new bandages through. 

"Oh god." Ryan whispers, then he turns to the front seat, panicking again. "Dammit, drive faster!"

"We're here, just hold on, calm down- "

"I can't fucking calm down, he's about to fucking die, hurry the fuck up- "

"Get him out of the trunk! It's an emergency!"

The shouts of the medics and Team B, the slam of the van's door, Michael's body on a makeshift stretcher, the white fabric stained with blood.

Ryan only lets himself breathe when Michael is hurried into the abandoned building, when Nathan jumps out of a car and toward Michael, shouting at the others to bring supplies.

He doesn't know when he falls asleep, or where, but it's dark and dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oogh. Sorry for all the bloody bloodiness.  
> Oh my god I'm almost done with this fic…there's going to be three more chapters after this.   
> Chapter title from Viva la Gloria.


	23. I've Given My Heart and My Soul

It's two days before Ryan's allowed to visit Michael.

As soon as he sets foot in the place, the smell of blood, drugs, and gauze fills his nose. Ryan immediately knows that it's the place where they take people who are going to die. 

He takes a deep inhale, steeling himself as he pushes aside the curtain dividing Michael's bed from the rest. Nathan's bent over him, replacing the bandages. Ryan winces when he sees the bright red cloth. It should have stopped bleeding by now.

"Hey, Ryan." Nathan says quietly, daubing ointment around the wound. 

Ryan comes to the side of the bed, but something's keeping him from touching Michael. Michael's asleep, looking deceptively peaceful. But when Ryan looks closer, flecks of blood dot his neck and cheeks, and his skin is so white that it's almost the same color as the sheets. 

"How's he doing?" Ryan asks, feeling his chest tighten. 

Nathan sighs. "Fine." But Ryan knows that that's not the truth.

"Nathan. How is he actually doing?" He mutters.

Nathan bites his lip, and the fact that he's hiding it just makes Ryan angry. He can fucking handle it. "Not…great, I guess."

"Nathan, he's fucking dying, do you think I'm stupid…" Ryan trails off, suddenly aware of the rage creeping up inside him. He's starting to slip. "Fuck." He says to himself, throwing the curtain back open.

"Ryan, wait- " Nathan tries, but Ryan's already gone.

He slams the door of the hospital closed, kicking at the dirt and wanting to just fucking kill something. But then something else flashes through his mind, beckoning. He crosses the dusty lot to his original truck, and pulls out his duffel bag. He smiles wryly as he hears the familiar clanking of bottles inside it.

Fuck it.

He yanks the whiskey out and feels the satisfying burn as it runs down his ragged throat. Time to shoot this down. Ryan has to get away from there, just get the fuck away.

Ryan walks, fast but with no purpose, down the silent highway until he's tired of walking, then he slumps down on the side of the road next to the city limit sign and feels the anger bubbling up again, mixed with despair. 

They fought so fucking hard. So fucking hard, for ten fucking years.

"TEN FUCKING YEARS!" Ryan shouts to the emptiness, taking another swig and feeling his mind dissolve. He gets up and kicks the sign, making a dent in the green metal. "THAT'S HOW LONG!" He doesn't know who he's talking to. He doesn't even care.

"And I don't fucking deserve this." Ryan mutters, clenching his jaw and drinking more. It doesn't make up for anything. They did it. They destroyed everything, they fucking won. And now Michael's going to be gone.

Ryan's vision clouds with red, and he feels a hot tear slipping down his cheek. Images of Michael's blood, staining the sheets of the bed, overtake him and Ryan feels like he can't breathe. 

"You can't…" He chokes, slamming his fist weakly into the metal. "YOU CAN'T FUCKING TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME!" Ryan screams, his voice hoarse with the alcohol and the uncontrollable rage, mixed with a horrible pain eating away inside him. 

"You can't take him away." 

He stumbles back down the highway, and it's like the ground is moving and he's just standing in place, stopping every few feet to take another draw from the bottle. When he finishes it, Ryan flings it out into the road, where it smashes into pieces. He feels his heart go with it.

 

Ryan walks until he can't walk anymore, finding himself wandering the gritty, empty streets of Chicago before long. He occasionally sees the straggling citizen, which is odd after so little human contact outside the Underground for so long. 

"Thank you." A tired-looking women cradling her children says to him as he passes, but Ryan just brushes past, heading for the waterfront. His mind is still in a haze from the whiskey. He can't talk to or even think about anyone else. Not now.

He reaches the edges of Lincoln Park, looking over Lake Michigan. The water stretches out impossibly far, a bleak, brown-gray horizon. 

Ryan takes a deep breath and reaches into his pocket, feeling his fingers brush against the smooth surface of the acorn. He decides it's time.

Using the blunt edge of a knife to hack a hole into the ground just in front of the lake, Ryan pulls the acorn out and looks it over. It's relatively unharmed, green surface and brown cap intact.

He drops it unceremoniously in the hole, then kicks the dirt back over it.

He thinks of the warm weight of Michael's arms around his neck, the soft pressure of his lips, the way he always seems to accompany his smiles with a blush. Ryan's too exhausted to be angry at the prickling behind his eyes. 

"You'd better fucking grow." He mumbles, already starting to walk away.

If it won't, Ryan doesn't know what he'll do.

 

 

That night, Ryan goes back to the dark, silent hospital, feeling empty and aimless. He stumbles through the echoing halls, trying to remember where Michael's bed is. He can smell the cigarette residue on himself, but he doesn't fucking care. He just needs to make sure Michael's still breathing. 

There's only silence except for the padding of his feet, and Ryan goes down the first row of beds until he reaches the last one. Taking a deep breath, he pulls the curtain gently aside. 

He steps forward and recognizes Michael's face in the soft moonlight seeping in through the window, his breathing even and almost healthy-sounding. There's an occasional rasp, though, and an awful feeling seeps into Ryan's chest and roots itself there. Ryan knows it's not going to go away until Michael gets better.

_If he gets better,_ the voice inside him supplies, and Ryan shoves the thought away.

Michael makes a small sound and shifts in his sleep. Ryan pulls up a stool next to his bed, leaning close.

"Hey, Michael."

Michael's eyes are still closed, but Ryan knows, somehow, that he's being heard.

"I know you're not feeling so hot…in fact…" Ryan smiles to himself. "You look like a fucking piece of shit."

Michael doesn't answer, as he expects. Ryan sighs, reaching a hand out to drag it through Michael's slightly crusty hair. He leans down, smelling the alcohol on himself and knowing that the smell is transferring to Michael's skin.

"I love you, okay?" He mutters. "Don't you ever fucking forget that."

Michael's breathing is labored and raspier as he gets closer, and Ryan knows he's in pain. "And…" He feels his eyes starting to prickle. "I know you love me."

Ryan closes his eyes tightly, trying to prevent the tears from leaking out. "So, if you…" He swallows, blinking hard. "If you need to let go…then you can." 

Michael's breathing is starting to even out, and Ryan clutches his arm, squeezing as tightly as he dares. "I'm not going to stop you. I love you, Michael."

He leans down, trembling, and kisses Michael gently. Ryan can taste himself on Michael's lips, and a mix of metal and blood. Maybe it's real, or maybe it's just that he's still drunk, but Ryan tastes Michael's heart on his mouth. 

"You can let go now."

But Michael keeps breathing, and it breaks Ryan's heart.

"I love you. So much." Ryan whispers against Michael's cold lips, and pulls away. "I'm here for you."

He slips under Michael's blanket, tucking it around them tightly.

"I'll always be here for you."

He falls asleep to the gentle pulse of Michael's breaths, in time with his own, a patch of moonlight watching over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 21st Century Breakdown. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4ZKlT1EvCA


	24. You've Found A Home In All Your Scars And Ammunition

Ryan wakes up the next morning, harsh sunlight shining through the dirty window, and looks around him to see a pair of bright brown eyes staring up at him.

He sits up with a gasp, and Michael lets out a little breath.

"Oh my god." Ryan mutters, staring down at Michael, who's awake and alive. He's alive. "Oh my god."

"Hey- " Michael tries, but he's interrupted by the press of Ryan's lips to his. "Ah, Ry- "

Ryan ignores him, kissing harder and supporting himself with an arm on either side of Michael's head. "Shut up, shut up- " He mutters, covering Michael's face with kisses that are almost rough to the point of being violent. He attacks Michael's neck, biting and sucking and kissing and wanting to just possess Michael, to take him so he can never leave again, ever. 

"Ry." Michael gasps, trying to lift an arm, but he's too weak. So he just lies and takes it, trying as hard as he can not to grin like an idiot.

"Michael, fuck, shit." Ryan mumbles, pulling away suddenly. He doesn't want Michael to see his face. 

"Ryan." Michael says weakly. "Ow."

"Fuck." Ryan's voice cracks, and he takes a deep breath, shifting so he's not crushing Michael. "Sorry, fuck, I- "

But then Michael's pulling him back down, not as strong as he usually is, but Ryan gets the message. He bends his neck and kisses Michael's jaw, nuzzling softly. Michael makes a pleased noise and holds Ryan as tightly as he can.

Ryan closes his eyes, but that causes a salty drop of water to fall from the corner of one of them. Michael, of course, notices it, and Ryan can literally _hear_ his frown.

"Ry?"

Ryan presses his face into Michael's neck, but that just gets it wetter, and he grits his teeth. Dammit. "Shut up. I love you, so shut up."

Michael laughs, the sound raspy, but healing. "I…love you too, but- "

Ryan pulls away and looks down at Michael, knowing that his face is crumpling. "Just…" A tear runs down his nose, and he wipes it angrily away. "Just shut up."

So Michael does, smiling as Ryan holds him so tightly he can barely breathe.

 

 

Michael lies there for the next hour, Ryan's face buried in the crook of his neck. He occasionally runs his hands up and down Ryan's back, but not in an attempt to wake him up. It's to make him stay.

Eventually, Nathan wanders in and gasps out "M- Michael?" when he sees that he's awake, and he strides forward and shoves Ryan out of the way, wrapping his lanky arms around Michael. Michael grunts, a little spike of pain shooting through his chest, but he lets Nathan hug him, unable to prevent the smile from spreading over his face. 

Nathan finally pulls away, and his eyes are red and watery. "Oh my god." He looks like he's about to cry.

Michael smiles and lifts his arm to scrub his hand through Nathan's brown hair, but another stab of pain goes through it and he drops it with a wince. "Ugh. Not quite there yet." 

Ryan makes a small sound from his left, just processing what's happening. The next thing he knows, Ryan's pushing between him and Nathan, arms wrapping around him. "Hands off." He mutters, and Nathan laughs shakily.

"Okay, okay." His voice sounds shot, but Michael doesn't have the energy to do anything about it at the moment. He just lets himself relax in Ryan's warmth and drift away from reality.

At some point, he falls asleep again, lulled there by the hum of Nathan and Ryan's voices. When he wakes up, the entire team is crowded into the tiny room, Cullen sitting on the end of the bed.

"Guys…" Michael groans, stirring and burying his face in Ryan's chest. Ryan's laugh vibrates through his ribs. "I look like shit."

But apparently they don't care about that, because everyone rushes forward and hugs him, not too hard, but almost. Michael can't keep from smiling, and Ryan makes a crushed sound from inside the sandwich, and he just kind of wishes that they could stay like this. 

"Well, you really do." Cullen mutters, and Michael pretends he doesn't notice him wiping at his face. "Look at yourself." He holds out a broken glass pane. 

Michael pushes himself up and winces as he sees his reflection. He looks even worse than he did after the last raid. "Ew. Get it away." 

Cullen smiles and gives him another hug, but there's something that's…missing. "Welcome back, MP."

Michael lets himself smile too, but there's still…

Aaron.

"Guys, where's Aaron?" He asks, looking up at Nathan. For some reason, Cullen tenses. His face looks decidedly grim as he leans back, glancing up at the rest of their team.

"Um…"

Michael frowns, raising an eyebrow. "What?" He fixes Ryan with a questioning stare, but Ryan's suddenly very interested in the dividing curtain. "Guys?"

Nathan clears his throat, looking at Matt and Ricky with a pleading expression. Conor's face is in shadow, head turned down, and Michael fears that if he looks up, he won't like what he sees. "Michael…" 

"Where is he?" Michael asks quietly. "Where's Aaron?"

"He…" Nathan bites his lip, glancing at Ryan. "Michael, Aaron died."

Michael's brain registers the words and then just spits them back out, refusing to accept it.

"What?" He lets out a nervous laugh. "No, that's not…that's not right. He's not…no."

"Michael." Nathan's voice is cracking. "He's dead."

"No…you're wrong, he's not…" Michael's face is darkening, and he's denying it just to keep himself together. "He can't…no…" His voice rasps at the end, and the pressure just keeps building up behind his eyes. 

"I'm so sorry, MP, he…" Cullen puts a hand on his shoulder. "He told us to tell you he loves you, and- "

"No." Michael stares at Cullen. "Why are you telling me this, he's not…" He feels Ryan's arm tighten around him. "He's…" 

Michael sobs suddenly, hot drops of water sliding down his face. "Aaron…" 

Cullen rushes forward and holds him with Ryan, rubbing his hand over Michael's hair. "It's okay, MP, it's okay." Michael buries his face in Cullen's shoulder and sobs, letting everything out. 

When he's quieted down and his shoulders have stopped convulsing, Michael lets his head drop back to the pillow, feeling suddenly exhausted. 

"You gonna be okay?" Nathan asks quietly, coasting his hand over Michael's ankle. He looks so sad, Michael feels almost guilty for crying. 

"I'll be fine." Michael murmurs, and with that, he falls asleep again. 

 

 

Michael wakes up sweating, the shouting from his dream still echoing in his head. He feels around the mattress for Ryan's hand, relaxing when it squeezes his gently.

"Hey." Ryan murmurs sleepily, and Michael's immediately guilty for waking him up. He doesn't know how much time has passed since he fell asleep, he doesn't really have a sense of time anymore. 

"Hey." Michael smiles, because even though his chest hurts, Ryan is still having that damn effect on him. Ryan grins back, slinging an arm around his waist, careful not to touch the gauze on his chest. 

"You feeling okay?" Ryan asks quietly, hand coating over his skin, and suddenly, Michael is.

"I'm good."

 

 

Two weeks later, he's able to get up and walk. Nathan calls it a miracle and resumes bustling around, healing and fixing everyone up. He spends more time than necessary in Matt's little room.

Ryan sticks close by him, insisting that he "might just fucking keel over at any moment, so he'd better not try anything dumb." Michael tries to convince him that he doesn't _actually_ need someone to hoist him dramatically out of bed every morning, but he lets it go, assuming that Ryan's just being worrisome and overprotective. 

The thing is, Ryan kisses him awake every day, and Michael can't really complain about that. 

Conor eventually comes out of his darkness, turning back into the sometimes annoyingly talkative kid that he is. The pain of Aaron's death is put behind them, but not forgotten. 

Cullen officiously checks in on Michael every day, claiming that he's helping Nathan perform his duties. Nathan tries to teach him how to properly take someone's temperature, using himself as a test subject, and ends up almost choking on the thermometer. 

One day, Ryan takes him into the city.

"I want you to see where I planted the tree." Ryan mutters, looking away, and Michael takes his hand.

"Okay."

As they walk through Chicago, Michael looks around him and sees the ruins of what they did. But he doesn't see them as ruins, more as a foundation. Something that had to be knocked down in order for something new to be built there. 

They stop at the waterfront, a place Ryan seems to have memorized, and there's a little patch of overturned dirt that must be where the tree is planted. Ryan takes his hand and squeezes, face looking pained as he looks down at the pile. Michael knows he's thinking about Aaron, about what he would have said if he was there with them. 

"Ryan." Michael whispers, looking over at him and feeling that little skip of his heart. "Let's bury Aaron near it. Okay?"

"Okay." Ryan mutters, then he pulls Michael closer, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Let's."

Michael smiles then, letting himself lean in, as Ryan does the same. They support each other there, and Michael closes his eyes, breathing in Ryan's scent mixed with the lake's air.

"I love you." He says quietly into Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan's hand comes up to his cheek, tilting his head to look into his eyes.

"I love you, too." Ryan says, and then he kisses him, and Michael forgets everything else, and it feels like that moment could be the rest of time.

So he wraps his arms around Ryan's neck and finally feels like he can breathe, and they sink deep into the beginning of forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Viva la Gloria.  
> Okay, so the next chapter is going to be the final one. I want to thank everyone who has been reading once again before I embark on it!


	25. See The Light

It's been three months since the end of the revolution. 

Aaron's body lies at the waterfront of Lake Michigan, buried in Grant Park. He's right next to the tree, and Ryan thinks that's probably where he'd want himself. He doesn't know about "gold columns, weekly sacrifices, and entire altars," but he figures that Aaron's happy, wherever he is. He hopes that, at least.

As soon as he made sure everyone was getting better, Jason took off for America's major cities and freed all the trapped citizens in them, the Revivers lying deactivated in the streets. The vice president was found locked in a dark cell of the Brooklyn base, shivering and sickly, but alive. 

America began to heal. 

It would take a long time, almost ten years, just to get everything stable and running again. The nation would never forget what had happened, what had trapped it in the winter of its time for so long. And it would never forget the people who brought it back into the sun.

 

 

"Do you think he'd want this here?"

Ryan looks over to see Michael holding up a photograph of Aaron to the cork board they're working on. Aaron's flipping a tiny Michael around in his arms, and Ryan's hanging on to his leg. 

Ryan smiles. "He'd love it." 

"Of course he would." Michael grins, pinning it on and holding the finished board in front of him. "Done." 

They prop it up in front of Aaron's grave, a simple slab of stone with his name and years of birth and death. It's covered with photographs, taped on are empty bullet shells, blueprints, anything that brings Aaron's memory to mind. It's hard to look at for a long time, or Ryan feels that ache in his chest resurface. 

"Guys! Get over here!" Jason's voice comes from somewhere far away, and Michael and Ryan turn around to see him waving from a statue at the far end of the park. "We've got a lead on some people at the Denver base!" 

Michael smiles, getting up and offering Ryan his hand. "Come on. We've got a shitload of work to do."

Ryan looks up at him for a while, standing framed by the sun, then he takes Michael's hand. "We do."

As he pulls himself up, he tugs Michael down, and their lips meet in the middle. Michael's eyes close and he wraps his arms around Ryan's neck, a little wobbly, but Ryan's there to keep him steady. 

It's when they're walking away that Ryan looks back to Aaron's grave and sees the tiny green sprout starting to grow next to it. It's small, and it's delicate, but Ryan knows it's their tree.

_You've been through just as much as we have_ , Ryan thinks to himself, and he doesn't care if he's being an idiot, because it's true. 

He smiles and slings his arm around Michael's waist, leading them away. A gust of wind blows, and the sprout sways dangerously, but it keeps itself upright as the wind dies down.

It's small, but it's alive. And it will grow into something so powerful, nothing will be able to stop it.

In the fading, forgotten darkness, it found the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from See The Light. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hY1Cm3jXK9s
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has been reading and commenting and leaving kudos the entire time I've been writing this. And putting up with the extremely cracky plot and everything. You inspired me to keep going with this fic. Special thanks to Chloe(AO3 guest) for her lovely comments on every single chapter of this and faithful support. :)
> 
> I hope everyone knows that although none of this is real, it's possible. Who knows, maybe America will be overrun by a group of psychotic cyborgs in twenty years…then you can say, "Well, she got everything WRONG. Bullet wounds can't just heal in a couple weeks." (which is true. The passage of time for this is COMPLETELY wrong. Wroooong. If you're ever shot PLEASE do not expect to heal as fast as these characters did.)
> 
> Well, that concludes this fic.Thank you so much again, everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. 
> 
> SO.
> 
> This is probably the most random thing I will ever write in my entire life.
> 
> But.
> 
> This is my first AU. The inspiration came to me in a burst of light called 21st Century Breakdown by Green Day. The album has a story in it, (like most Green Day albums do) about two revolutionaries, Christian and Gloria. Christian is "deep into his own demons and victimizing himself over that." Gloria's a girls who's "trying to hold on to this sense of belief, still trying to do good."  
> Read Billie Joe Armstrong's quote in themes and composition for more info.  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/21st_Century_Breakdown
> 
> This is Christian and Gloria.  
> http://quietus_production.s3.amazonaws.com/images/articles/1549/greenday_1240575024_crop_550x550.jpg
> 
> In my mind, I see Ryan as Christian, and Michael as Gloria. I dunno. I don't even know why I'm bringing this onto myself. But, I hope that y'all, um, at least don't hate this. Yeah. Lots of dramatic drama and angsty angst and violent violence is headed your way.
> 
> So, here we go! Viva La Revolucion!
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Before the Lobotomy.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Adq49rK0atQ
> 
> Also, the main work title is from 21 Guns.  
>  _One, twenty-one guns,_  
>  Lay down your arms, give up the fight  
> One, twenty-one guns,  
> Throw up your arms  
> Into the sky  
> You and I


End file.
